Phoenix Tears
by Alexannah
Summary: Featured in The Sunday Times, 17-07-11. Harry had hoped for a quiet sixth year. A renewed friendship with Dumbledore, elusive Horcruxes, playing match-maker, unwanted extra Divination and the discovery of yet more secrets dictate otherwise. HPGW ADMM SBLE
1. More Than Words Can Say

**Phoenix Tears**

By Alexannah

**Chapter One: More Than Words Can Say**

Albus Dumbledore's mind was a blank. This was very unusual for him, especially during a conversation with Harry Potter. Harry was just slumped in the chair, facing him but not looking at him, grief etched all over his face, along with bitterness and exhaustion. His eyes were somehow blank, as if his own mind was elsewhere at this point. Albus watched him for a minute or two, feeling very little and yet sure the pain would sink in soon.

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry," he said hesitantly. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess … that I rather thought … you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

As he spoke, he realised he had said all he had intended to, and as Harry raised his head to meet his eye the first wave of pain hit him and the first tear escaped.

Any more words that were uttered by either of them washed over Albus without making any imprint – in fact, the next thing he knew, he was standing by the closing door and Harry had left.

Albus Dumbledore was alone, and his walls finally crumbled. His knees gave way and he sank to the floor, the first sobs beginning to escape.

* * *

Harry looked up at Number Four and sighed. He had been dreading the return to Privet Drive more than ever this year. Unlike last summer, there would be no comforting letters from Sirius to look forward to. He knew Ron and Hermione would write, but it wasn't the same. As much as he loved his friends, he had found he needed an adult figure to confide in as much as he had in Sirius … and now he was gone.

There was no use dwelling on the fact. Harry blinked furiously and stepped inside, ignoring the Dursleys completely.

The smallest bedroom looked just like he had left it, only with a thick layer of dust. Harry wiped down all the surfaces with an old t-shirt and opened the window wide to let in a non-existent breeze.

"Bloody Dursleys," he muttered. Glancing round the room, Harry took in the rotten carpet and the peeling walls. The Dursleys had redecorated all of their rooms several times but never this one. Harry had had to help out with Dudley's room and knew what to do. Maybe this summer, he would take his mind off everything by making his bedroom fit for a human to live in. Not that he would need it much longer – Harry knew why he had to stay here now, but fully intended to clear out the moment he turned of age.

After a short walk to re-familiarise himself with the neighbourhood and get some fresh air, Harry went to bed with a textbook. It was only seven o'clock, but he wasn't hungry and couldn't think of anything better to do with himself. He read till he felt himself falling asleep several hours later, and slept soundly until something light fell on his face.

Harry woke with a jump and there was a squawk as he grabbed at something solid in the darkness. Brushing something feathery, he fumbled for a light.

"Fawkes!" he gasped. "You scared me! What are you doing here?"

The phoenix, perched on his knees, trilled and directed Harry at the envelope in his lap. It was addressed simply _Harry_ and not even properly sealed. Harry pulled out the scrap of parchment.

_Dear Harry,_

_I am sorry. I know that cannot ever do justice to how I feel, how I let you down when you needed friends most. But I truly regret everything I did last year and I want to make things right between us. I'm not begging for forgiveness, just a second chance.  
_  
Harry rubbed his eyes blearily and glanced at his clock. It was three in the morning, and the writing was less legible than usual; as if the letter had been penned on a whim when the addresser was half-asleep.

He had been mad at Dumbledore before. Now he just felt depressed, and a little bit guilty for being mad before. Harry stroked Fawkes' feathers gently, thinking, before finally reaching for a quill.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Thanks for your apology, it means a lot to me. While I'm ready to forgive I'm not sure I'm ready to forget, and I think you realise that we may have trust issues. But I'm prepared to work on that if you're prepared to do your part. I think the biggest problem last year was my lack of knowledge, so keeping me informed of things from now on seems like a good place to start._

_Harry  
_  
He was sorry to see the phoenix go, but Fawkes willingly took the note, trilled a goodbye and disappeared in a flash. Harry yawned widely and lay back down, not expecting to return to sleep yet … but he was snoring within half a minute.

* * *

"I thought I might find you here."

It had not taken her long, Albus thought. It was too late to hide the Firewhiskey from her now, but he avoided her sharp eyes as she sat down on the bar stool next to him and laid a hand on his arm.

"Albus, it's late," Minerva said in an unusually soft voice. "Far too late. You should go home, get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," he lied.

"You know me too well to think I will believe that, Albus Dumbledore," she reprimanded.

"Did Aberforth tell you I was here?"

"He didn't have to. I know you, you silly old codger."

"I believe the phrase is 'barmy old codger', actually." Albus regretted correcting her, as a lump formed in his throat which would not budge. Minerva looked as if she was about to say something else, but they were interrupted.

"Albus, I'm cutting you off, you've had enough tonight," Aberforth said, taking the empty glass out of Albus' hand forcefully.

"Just one more, Abe -"

"Absolutely not. And I think you'd better stay upstairs tonight; I'll take the sofa -"

"As much as I value your most unusual display of charitableness, Aberforth, it is unnecessary; besides, I don't want to spend a minute in that room of yours, it smells like a goat stable." Albus paused. "Even more than it does down here. How can you not have been shut down yet?"

"_How_ many Firewhiskeys has he had?" Minerva addressed Aberforth sharply. He winced in response.

"Five. I think. Maybe six. I don't know, I lost count."

"Some brother you are," she muttered. "Albus, come on, you're coming home with me. You shouldn't be on your own like this."

Albus tried to stand, and the world immediately span. "Maybe a good idea," he mumbled.

"Has he paid?" Minerva said to his brother.

"No, he hasn't. Albus," Aberforth said slowly and clearly, "you owe me twenty Galleons."

Albus put his hand in his pocket, but Minerva stopped him and slapped Aberforth sharply. "You rotten swine, Aberforth Dumbledore! Taking advantage of your brother like this -"

"Do I owe him or not?" Albus asked; he was rapidly becoming more and more confused.

"No, you don't owe him anything," Minerva said firmly before a glaring Aberforth could speak. "Come on, Albus, let's get you out of here."

He followed her obediently out of the bar. She took his hand firmly and Apparated them; upon arrival, Albus fell flat on his face and had to be helped up.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you," she sighed, and Albus felt a strange pang that he had made her sad. Before he could say anything, a flash stunned him for a moment, and he realised that Fawkes had appeared, dropping a piece of parchment at his feet.

Minerva retrieved it before Albus could. "You can read it tomorrow," she said firmly. "Now go to sleep before I hex you."

Albus knew Minerva's range of creative hexes well from all the years of working with her, and lay down on the sofa. It took him a moment to realise she had Transfigured it into a bed. As he sank into it, she tucked a blanket round him and kissed his forehead.

"Sleep well, you barmy old codger."

As he drifted off, his thoughts turned to Harry, and wondered vaguely what he had written back.

The next morning, Albus woke with an unsurprising headache, and turned down Minerva's offer of breakfast.

"I really don't know what I'm going to do with you," she repeated, making them both a cup of tea instead. "Albus, you should think about staying here with me for the summer holiday. You really shouldn't be on your own right now."

"I appreciate the offer, Minerva," he mumbled, one hand to his head, "but I'm fine."

"You are _not_ fine. It's all right to admit that, Albus," Minerva replied. "You're only human, and last year's affected all of us. Especially you and Harry."

Albus tensed, but seized the opportunity to change the subject with gratitude. "What did you do with the note from him last night?"

"Oh, that …" Minerva felt in her pockets, and drew it out. "Here."

Upon reading it, Albus sighed. Harry's reply had left him with a mixture of emotions. On the one hand, he was glad to see that Harry seemed to have responded a lot better than he had expected … But on the other, the tone of the letter was still far from happy.

"You've really done it this time, haven't you?" he muttered to himself, staring at the last part. _I think the biggest problem last year was my lack of knowledge, so keeping me informed of things from now on seems like a good place to start._

Was it a good idea? Harry had enough on his plate … But he had offered to give Albus a second chance, and if he messed up now, Harry would never forgive him.

"Minerva," Albus said slowly, "could you get me a quill and parchment, please?"

She did so, and Albus, before beginning the new letter, hesitated. Perhaps he should be more strategic about this. Harry would not take everything at once at all well, and he was bad enough at the moment. But if he let Harry know that there were things still to tell, maybe when he did tell him the backlash would not be so bad.

_All right Albus, time to show your Slytherin side_, he thought, the first smile creeping onto his face for weeks. It diminished quickly. Albus had nearly been put in Slytherin himself – just like Harry had. And someone else he knew.

_Sirius_.

No, he would _not_ think about that. Harry needed him now.

"What are you going to write back?" Minerva asked.

"Hopefully," Albus said, "the beginning of something better."

_Harry -_

_Thank you. I don't deserve it, but I am forever grateful to you for it._

_I have been thinking that I never really played as big a part in your life than I should have done. I want to now, if you will let me._

_I know at our last meeting I promised I would tell you everything – and I did, at least everything to do with what we were discussing. But there are still things that you have been kept in the dark about which we will talk about. Not now – I think you have enough to deal with – but soon, I promise you. I know you will not be happy to hear this but I assure you I never wanted to keep you or anyone else in the dark about any of it and I apologise._

_As for being informed of other things, I fully intend to learn from my mistakes and do so. That we can discuss when I see you._

_Take care, Harry.  
_  
As he sent Fawkes back with the letter, he smiled at his Deputy. "Minerva, thank you for offering to put me up for the summer, but I think I have something else in mind now."

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes. He had thought the midnight letter had been a dream; apparently not.

He had never heard Dumbledore talk like this until their discussion in his office. After reading the letter, he felt a stab of hurt that obviously Dumbledore _hadn't_ told him everything when he said he was going to, but re-reading it he surmised that whatever Dumbledore was keeping from him was kept for a reason – hopefully a good one – and it sounded as if it didn't relate to what they had discussed then anyway … What else could there possibly be?

Harry groaned. His head ached.

He didn't know what to write back without demanding to know what Dumbledore was keeping from him, so he didn't. As he carried out the chores the Dursleys laid on him, he wondered what Dumbledore meant by wanting to be a bigger part of his life …

That question was answered that evening. Harry was cleaning out Hedwig's cage and the Dursleys were watching something on the television when the doorbell rang. He peered out of the window, wondering who was calling this late. He stared. Was he going mad or was that really …?

He raced downstairs and landed on the hall floor in his socks just as the door opened.

In the doorway, looking completely out of place, was Albus Dumbledore himself.

**TBC …**


	2. Sandwich Quidditch

**Author's notes:** I wrote a scene out that appears a little later in this fic, and I've made it into a songfic – it's on my profile if you want to read it: "_Wake Me Up When September Ends_".

* * *

**Chapter Two: Sandwich Quidditch**

"I recommend Ancient Magic."

Harry looked up from his Hogwarts letter. "What?"

Dumbledore nodded at it. "Ancient Magic. Perhaps not the most useful subject to have a qualification in, but it is fascinating."

"Don't you have to have an OWL in History to take that one?"

"Just a pass will do. Most of what you learn will be from scratch rather than building on previous teachings."

_Dear Mr Potter_, read the letter.

_Following your grades from your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, sixth years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are required to choose their subjects for NEWT Level. These courses include three subjects not available to study at a lower level. It is recommended to take up two of these subjects in addition to your chosen Advanced courses._

_Ancient Magic – requires OWLs in History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts; recommended OWLs in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes_  
_Healing – requires OWLs in Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts at E or above_  
_Time Studies – requires OWLs in History of Magic, Transfiguration and/or Potions; and an OWL in Muggle Studies and/or Muggle background_

"Why do you need Muggle knowledge for Time Studies?"

"You would be surprised how much of the syllabus involves looking at Muggle popular culture," Dumbledore chuckled. "And Professor Bulla does not like spending the whole of the first lesson every year explaining television to purebloods."

"And what's the Transfiguration and/or Potions OWL for?"

"Because those are very much theory subjects, and you need to be able to cope with a lot of theory to be able to do the subject. Time is very interesting, but mostly theory and speculation."

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Which subjects did you take, Professor?"

"I took all of them. All the Ordinary Wizarding Level subjects too. I used a time-turner like your friend Hermione did in your third year. I would not recommend _that_, by the end of the courses I was almost too exhausted to do the exams."

Harry grinned. "But you still passed?"

"Everything except Herbology. But that was not my fault – one of the Fire Crabs escaped from the Care of Magical Creatures examination and set my Venomous Tentacula on fire."

They both laughed. The atmosphere in the living room was fairly light at present. It was varying, and had been since Dumbledore had arrived almost out of the blue two days previously. It was mostly just the two of them; the Dursleys, anxious about a very powerful and fully fledged wizard in the house, were all spending as much time as possible out of it.

Although there had been the occasional awkward silence or tense moment, for the most part Harry and his Headmaster were getting on well. They had come to an unspoken agreement to avoid serious or painful topics for now, and kept to general conversation and jokes. Oddly, Harry was feeling his anger towards Dumbledore slipping away as time went on, as if the company and laughter was the cure for resentment.

Occasionally he remembered Dumbledore's original letter, and wondered about this secret the Headmaster still had. But he didn't ask, telling himself that Dumbledore would tell him when it was the right time. He had always trusted him, and just because he had made a few huge errors did not mean that trust should disappear. Everyone made mistakes, and Dumbledore deserved a second chance.

He couldn't help but be curious though.

* * *

"You need to eat something, Harry."

"I'm not hungry."

Dumbledore sighed, looking down at the plates of sandwiches in front of them. An idea occurring, he broke a small piece off of a corner and waved it temptingly in front of Harry's mouth. "Whoosh, here comes the Quaffle towards the goal. Will there be a score? Open wide, Harry!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, and Dumbledore took the opportunity to pop the piece of sandwich into his open mouth.

"Th-that's not fair," he said after half-choking. "You're not even eating yours."

Dumbledore promptly popped a piece of sandwich into his own mouth, even making the _whoosh_ing noise with it.

"Yum yum, raspberry jam," he said in the same kind of tone one would talk to a young child in. "Harry's turn again now."

Harry grinned and decided to obey.

This childish ritual continued until the plates were half empty, and then they decided to leave the rest. Dumbledore wrapped the rest of the sandwiches up and put them in the fridge for the next day. Harry noticed that as he did so, Dumbledore looked somehow sadder and kind of withdrawn, as if lost in memories.

"Are you all right, sir?" he asked. Despite Dumbledore's insistence early on into his stay that Harry drop the formalities and address him as Albus, Harry had not quite got into the habit yet.

"What? – Oh – yes. Thank you."

"You don't look okay to me," Harry said. "And don't think I haven't noticed you've been off your food too."

Dumbledore smiled weakly. "It's been a long year. And not … not with the best ending." He swallowed.

Harry just nodded, his eyes dropping. Dumbledore looked across at him and sighed.

"Maybe it's time we talked." He sat back down, putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do you want to talk, Harry?"

"I dunno." Harry rested his head on his arms. The memories were still so painful. "I just really miss him."

"I know," Dumbledore murmured.

"How can you?" Harry burst out, more bitter than he intended. "How do you have any idea what I'm bloody feeling?"

Dumbledore's hand tightened on his shoulder. "You're not the only one grieving, Harry." The tone of his voice, sadder than Harry had ever heard it before, made him meet Dumbledore's eyes. There was clear pain written all over them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Harry paused, a thought crossing his mind. "Were you and Sirius close?"

"Not as close as I would like to have been." Dumbledore looked like he was thinking carefully about how he phrased his answer. "I knew his mother Walburga. I knew him quite well as a toddler, but I lost contact with Walla when he was about two. The next time I saw him was at his Sorting."

"What about when you were in the Order together?"

"It wasn't very personal. Generally, the only things we discussed were related to the war." Dumbledore heaved a sigh.

Harry looked at his Headmaster thoughtfully. In truth, he had to admit that he hadn't given much thought to how others must have been feeling – after all, he hadn't been the only one to care about Sirius. But Dumbledore clearly did.

Slowly, Harry reached out and took hold of Dumbledore's hand, and squeezed it gently. Dumbledore, smiling sadly, squeezed it back.

* * *

Although the pain of Sirius' passing had not diminished, Harry felt slightly calmer. Knowing that there was somebody else, somebody close, who was going through the same thing made a huge difference. It also made talking about Sirius a little easier. Dumbledore knew things that Harry had not, such as what subjects he had been good at in school, what he had wanted to be when he had grown up, the adventures he had got up to with the Marauders, and the mischievous toddler he had been.

There was something to be said about grief, Harry pondered one night after Dumbledore had slid into a quiet slumber on the sofa beside him. It could bring people closer.

He had the thought not long before he too fell asleep, and woke a few hours later to find himself alone.

There was a note where Dumbledore had been, written on the back of Aunt Petunia's last shopping list. Harry unfolded it.

_Dear Harry,_

I'm sorry, but I have to leave for a while on important business. I will be back as soon as I can.

If I am not back in forty-eight hours, then inform Professor McGonagall, but otherwise DO NOT tell anybody that I have gone. I will explain when I return.

Don't you dare eat the last of the raspberry jam, or I will confiscate your Invisibility Cloak for the whole of the next term. Also, don't forget to feed Fawkes while I am gone.

Back soon,  
Albus

* * *

Forty-eight painstakingly slow hours passed, and Harry grew more and more worried as no sign of Dumbledore turned up. He had not thought to leave instructions as to how to contact Professor McGonagall – the untidy writing was evidence that he had been in a hurry, and had missed that information out. Harry considered telling Mrs Figg, but it struck him that there must have been a reason why Dumbledore had instructed him to inform Professor McGonagall rather than the Order.

In the end, he scribbled a note addressed to Professor McGonagall telling her briefly that Dumbledore had not come back from important business and had instructed him to contact her. Harry was about to attach it to Hedwig, but Fawkes swooped out of nowhere, took the note out of Harry's hands and disappeared with it.

Why had he not thought of that before? Harry flopped onto his bed, unable to sleep.

Although it felt like hours, it was probably only around twenty minutes before Professor McGonagall appeared in a flash with Fawkes.

"Professor!" Harry sat bolt upright. "Do you know where -"

She held up a hand to stop him. "No."

Harry's heart sank.

"But I have a general idea where he went," Professor McGonagall continued, sitting down next to him. "Professor Snape has gone to look for him. Did he say anything about what he was doing?"

Harry said no and showed her the note Dumbledore had left. She sighed.

"Albus and his ambiguity. I swear it'll be the death of -" She stopped herself, realising what she was saying and noticing the look on Harry's face. "Don't worry, Harry, Albus can take care of himself." She gave his hand a squeeze in comfort, but Harry noticed her own hands were shaking slightly. "He will be back before you know it."

"I hope so," Harry mumbled, too quiet for Professor McGonagall to hear.

"All we can do now is wait."

**TBC …**


	3. Safe Hands

**Chapter Three: Safe Hands**

How Harry managed to fall asleep, he didn't know. After what seemed like forever waiting in tense silence, the next thing he knew was somebody shaking him and Professor McGonagall's voice. "Potter, wake up. Harry. He found Albus."

Harry jerked awake, painfully aware of a crick in his neck from the uncomfortable position he had dropped off in. "Is he okay?"

Professor McGonagall nodded, although she looked shaken. "He's fine. Well, not quite fine, but he'll live."

Dumbledore was in the spare room. Harry paused in the doorway. Sleeping, Dumbledore somehow looked more vulnerable. He was still wearing the robes that he had been dressed in when he had left, which were crumpled and dirty, and his right hand was heavily bandaged.

"What happened?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"I'm not convinced that is any of your business, Potter," Snape replied, to be immediately shushed by Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore stirred, and they all froze, but he only turned over, wincing slightly as he did so. Professor McGonagall gestured Harry and Snape downstairs.

"Severus, perhaps you should go home," Professor McGonagall suggested once they were back in the living room. "I can call you when he wakes up."

"Minerva, I need to talk to him," Snape insisted. "About – what he was doing." He shot a glare at Harry.

"Your discussion will have to wait. Does Albus have what he went for, or do you?"

Snape paused. "I have it."

"Well then, you don't need to be here. Harry and I will take care of him."

Seeming to be trying to repress the scowl, Snape nodded curtly at Professor McGonagall and swept out of the house, shutting the door behind him with a snap. Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Maybe you should go back to bed too, Potter. You look as though you have not slept in a week."

"Thanks, Professor."

"I'm serious. Harry. Go and get some rest, I promise I will wake you if Albus wakes. All right?"

"Where will you go?" Harry said. "There's only the one spare bed. You could have mine if you like, I don't mind going on the sofa -"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine keeping watch. _Bed_, Mr Potter. Now."

"Yes, Professor." Harry positively sped out of the room at her glare.

* * *

Harry woke early the next morning, and for a while just lay still with a groan, his eyes unopened. In a flash he remembered the previous night's events, tumbled out of bed and sped into the spare room.

Dumbledore was still asleep, tucked up in the covers despite still wearing his robes. Beside him and right on the edge of the bed lay Professor McGonagall, also fast asleep and hunched up on top of the covers. From the uncomfortable-looking position, she hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Harry grinned and considered taking a photo, but didn't have a camera. Of all the times for Colin Creevey to not be around. Instead he ventured downstairs and started cooking breakfast. He was not particularly hungry himself, and knew from experience that Dumbledore would not be eating much either, but Professor McGonagall would probably want something. Harry put a packet of bacon on to cook – if nobody ate it now, he could always put it in sandwiches later. There were eggs in the fridge but he decided to leave them till the teachers awoke.

* * *

Harry kept an eye on the teachers, and when they began stirring he put the rest of the breakfast on. Checking to make sure they were awake, he heard them talking quietly in the spare room and brought up a tray.

"Wakey wakey," he announced with a knock on the bedroom door. "Breakfast."

"Harry? Is that you?"

Harry nudged the door with his foot. While Dumbledore was still lying back resting, Professor McGonagall was sitting up, attempting to de-tangle her hair with her fingers, as it had come out of its tidy bun and got caught up in the bun net.

"I brought breakfast in bed," Harry said. "For two. I figured you might want something to eat before you leave, Professor."

"My goodness, that's very kind of you Harry, but you shouldn't have – is that bacon?"

"Bacon, eggs, toast and orange juice," Harry said. "Er, the juice is on the side." He received a couple of chuckles and smiled himself. "And yes, Albus, the eggs are sunny side up. Bon appetit, Professors."

"Have some yourself, Harry, why don't you?" Dumbledore said. "I'm sure you could squeeze in here if Minerva budges up." He received a sharp elbow in the ribs for that remark. "Ouch!"

"I'm not really hungry, to be honest -"

Dumbledore gave Harry a sharp look through his half-moon spectacles that stopped Harry in his tracks. Wordlessly, Dumbledore pointed a finger at Harry and then directed it beside him. Harry obediently sat on the other side of the bed, politely refusing the toast Dumbledore offered him.

"How are you feeling this morning, Professor?" he asked, taking a sip of orange juice instead.

"I admit to having been better," Dumbledore answered, "but quite well considering the circumstances, I have to say."

Professor McGonagall glared at him. "As to that issue, Albus, the next time you feel like a midnight wander into dangerous territory, it would be nice if you left _verbal_ instructions with someone rather than a note shorter than Filius."

Harry stifled a laugh as Dumbledore looked indignant. "Minerva my dear, the precise reason why I did not leave a verbal message is that I did not have the time for such a luxury. If I had I assure you that I would have."

"You must have had the time to wake Harry up and tell him you were popping out, surely?"

"The time, yes, but that would have resulted, I imagine, in Harry having far less sleep last night. Am I right?" Dumbledore said, turning to Harry.

Harry, who had to admit that if that would have been the case, was about to say so but Professor McGonagall stopped him. "And would it have taken any longer to make a Firecall?"

"Yes," was Dumbledore's simple reply. "Harry, why is there no raspberry jam on my toast?"

* * *

Professor McGonagall seemed set on fussing over Dumbledore, but was interrupted straight after breakfast by a visit from Snape, who shooed both her and Harry out of the room. If his Head of House had not been there, Harry would have been extremely tempted to listen at the keyhole, but as she was he satisfied himself by watching the morning cartoons on the television. Professor McGonagall sat down with him and stared at them in interest. Harry thought perhaps it was best if he stayed away from _Tom and Jerry_.

As Harry was wondering how to start a conversation, Snape swept downstairs after his brief meeting, stopping to glare at the television as if it had offended him. "What on earth -"

"They're called cartoons, Severus." Professor McGonagall smiled sweetly at him. "What did you discuss with Albus, then?"

He turned the glare on her. "You know that's more than my life's worth to tell you, Minerva." Completely ignoring Harry and without a goodbye, he positively swooped from the house, snapping the door shut behind him.

Professor McGonagall made a face at his back, and quickly smoothed her features into a frown as she caught Harry grinning at it. "You saw nothing, Potter."

He just continued to grin, wishing again that he had had a camera. Professor McGonagall sighed. "I suppose that's my cue that the top secret meeting's over."

"I would have thought you'd be allowed to hear it," Harry voiced his curiosity. "I mean, Dumbledore trusts you more than anyone."

"I'm glad you think so. It works more in theory than practise, however."

"But you two are so close!"

"Exactly. That's why he doesn't tell me the life or death pieces." Professor McGonagall stood. "Are you coming?"

Harry was still trying to work out the logic of her last statement, but nodded and stood up. Professor McGonagall realised what he was thinking, however.

"I have no doubt it will happen to you too, Harry. One day you will be so close to somebody you will be afraid of telling them things that could get them killed, too."

"I hope I'll never keep stuff from my friends," Harry said, horrified.

"Have you told them about the prophecy yet?"

There was a short pause. "I thought Dumbledore didn't tell you information that could get you killed?"

"The fact that it exists and that you now know the contents are hardly murder-worthy secrets. The question remains. Have you told your friends?"

"I haven't really had the chance."

"Do you intend to?"

Harry opened his mouth, but found he couldn't answer. Professor McGonagall answered for him. "I advise you to. You of all people need a confidant or two. I think your friends have proved themselves trustworthy."

"Thanks, Professor. After you."

Dumbledore had his head buried in Uncle Vernon's _Guardian_, which he put down as Professor McGonagall and Harry entered the room. "Still here, Minerva?"

"Well, how's that for gratitude."

"I'm fine, honestly, you don't have to hang around here."

Professor McGonagall folded her arms stubbornly. "I hardly think you're in a fit state to be going anywhere."

"I am perfectly fine here with Harry, Minerva, and that is precisely why you should be going; the Order needs someone to take charge while I'm here."

There was a pause. "Albus, I don't think -"

"I'm in safe hands, my dear, don't worry about me. But I'll recover a lot quicker if I'm not worrying about what state the Order is in …"

"All right, all right, I'm going. As long as you're both all right?" Professor McGonagall turned to Harry.

"We're fine, Professor, but thanks," Harry assured her.

She nodded. "Fine. I'll be off then. Keep me updated, won't you?"

"Of course!" Dumbledore assured her as she left. Once she had gone he pushed the newspaper aside and sighed. Harry suddenly realised how pale he looked.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Albus," was the automatic correction. "Yes, I'm all right."

Harry pointed to Dumbledore's bandaged hand. "Does that hurt?"

Dumbledore had begun rubbing the edge of the bandage at the wrist. "No, not any more. Not unless I move it," he said thoughtfully. "Itches like mad though."

"Do you want some cream on it or something?" Harry suggested.

"No, Poppy said to leave the bandage on for forty-eight hours before doing anything to it. Maybe then."

Harry gently prised Dumbledore's hands away from each other. "Do you want anything? Tea or coffee, maybe?"

Dumbledore considered. "Tea would be lovely. Three sugars and a dash of milk, please Harry."

* * *

Despite his continuous insistence that he was fine, Dumbledore slept most of the day. Harry worked in his room, moving only to check on his Headmaster. He had so far avoided asking any questions about where he had been and what he had done – those could wait.

Around four o'clock, Dumbledore awoke surprisingly hungry and Harry realised that neither of them had eaten since breakfast. He went downstairs and searched the fridge and larder before whipping up a fast meal from what was there.

"Goodness," Dumbledore exclaimed as Harry entered the spare room with two hot plates. "That smells delicious."

"Thank you." Harry placed one plate carefully on Dumbledore's lap. "Careful, it's hot."

"That's all right – ouch."

"I did warn you."

"No, not the heat." Dumbledore was struggling to pick up the knife. "Just – bit tricky -"

"Here, let me." Harry put his own dinner aside, picked up Dumbledore's cutlery and cut him a mouthful. "Open wide."

"Harry -"

Ignoring his protests, Harry placed the first forkful into Dumbledore's mouth, who smiled after swallowing. "You're a good cook, Harry."

"Next mouthful, open up!"

Harry continued feeding Dumbledore until the plate was empty, and then ate his own while Dumbledore lay back and watched him. Harry had expected him to go back to sleep, but he didn't.

"Are you all right?"

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. "Just tired. Rather silly really, I've been asleep most of the day."

"Have you been sleeping well?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore considered. "Not really."

"Well, there you are then."

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes, and a minute later said "Ouch" again.

"Sir?"

"I'm all right – just – got the bandage caught." His hand was hovering over his neck, on its way back from trying to rub his eyes with the wrong hand. Harry leaned over to untangle him. The bandage had caught on a chain around Dumbledore's neck which Harry had never noticed before. As the two of them wrestled with it, a locket fell out of Dumbledore's robes. The moment Dumbledore was detached, he pocked the locket back out of sight with his free hand.

Harry opened his mouth to ask, but the look Dumbledore gave him stopped him. "It belonged to an old friend, now deceased," he said simply. "I prefer to keep it safe out of the way." The tone of voice said he did not want to discuss it further, so Harry nodded and looked away.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry, I did not want you to think I'm reprimanding you. But some things are too personal to discuss."

"I know, I'm sorry, sir – Albus."

Dumbledore considered him for a moment. "Harry. I know you're bursting to ask me what I'm not telling you."

Harry's head shot up at that. Dumbledore smiled. "No, I'm not going to tell you now. It's not the right time; you're not ready to hear it."

"It's big, right?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes."

"Aren't you afraid we'll have a repeat of last year if you don't tell me?"

This time Dumbledore shook his head. "No. This is nothing to do with Voldemort, Harry. There's no danger of a disaster if you don't know; no time limit."

"Can't you at least give me something, some clue?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I know you too well, Harry. I give you one clue, and you don't stop searching until you find out the whole story. You're just like your father." Dumbledore stopped suddenly, stared into space for a moment, swallowed, and then continued. "You've had enough thrown at you recently as it is, with losing Sirius and hearing the prophecy." The atmosphere in the room tensed. "You don't want this added. You need some time first."

Harry sighed, and a thought struck him. "Is there any particular reason why you never told me before – everything?"

"It wasn't my place," Dumbledore replied in a soft voice. "But a while ago – the circumstances changed." He paused, and then smiled, attempting to change the atmosphere. "That's all you're getting out of me, young man. Now go and make a couple of hot chocolates." Harry noticed the twinkle was coming back in his eyes.

Although Harry had not been told anything, he felt that the atmosphere had diminished somewhat now and the air was clearer to enquire about Dumbledore's recent visit to 'dangerous territory' and Professor McGonagall had put it. When they were halfway down their hot chocolates – well, Harry was halfway down, Dumbledore was still playing with the half-melted marshmallows on the top – Harry decided to bite the bullet and ask.

"I had a feeling this was coming," Dumbledore chuckled. "And, yes, you have a right to know. It's complicated, however." He took a sip of hot chocolate, and Harry didn't have a chance to point out the chocolate on his moustache before he continued. "I've been considering the best way to go about telling you about this, and I've decided the best thing perhaps is start with the basics, and then we can explore the story behind it together. Are you with me?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "I was retrieving a Horcrux."

"A what?"

**TBC …** The story behind Voldemort's making of the Horcruxes is basically the same as in canon, so I won't go into detail there. As you can see we are still very much in AU-land, there are very few HBP similarities. It's still HG though, if anyone was wondering, although their relationship will be a bit different to canon.

* * *

AN:


	4. YouKnowWho and His YouKnowWhats

**Chapter Four: You Know Who and His You Know Whats**

Having finally sent Hedwig off with his course choices, Harry flopped into bed, exhausted. He had barely slept for weeks and he felt like his eyes were continuously trying to close. The fear of reliving the night Sirius had died was intense, and keeping Harry from relaxing enough to let himself fall asleep. He wondered if he wasn't the only one. From what he could hear, Dumbledore had a habit of tossing and turning in his own sleep. Once Harry was sure he had heard him cry out in the middle of the night, but no other sound had come and he had put it down to his imagination.

All the same, nights were not fun. Every time Harry closed his eyes he was back in the Department of Mysteries. Tonight, Harry vowed, he would try and keep his mind on something else. That may not be too much of a problem.

Although Dumbledore had not gone into too much detail, he had explained to Harry what a Horcrux was and how he suspected – well, more than suspected – that Voldemort had made six. One, apparently was with Professor Snape. Harry was not entirely sure how happy that thought made him.

But the prospect of there being a solid, tangible method of defeating Voldemort in front of him was the best news he had received in a while. He did not know why he felt uneasy. It would be difficult, Dumbledore had warned him, to track down and destroy all these things, in the meantime Voldemort could be up to goodness knows what, still some part of Harry's consciousness seemed to be telling him it was impossible, that he wasn't capable, that the whole situation would get worse, not better.

So, the Horcruxes were not exactly a cheery subject to fill his mind with, but Harry theorised that as it was speculation rather than memory, the mental images streaming through his consciousness were less powerful. Harry attempted to clear his mind of cluttered, half-asleep thoughts and focus, as he lied down and closed his eyes.

After drifting into a slumber, Harry dreamed. He dreamed of being back in Grimmauld Place, with his friends and Dumbledore around him, clutching something gold in his hands, triumphant over having retrieved a Horcrux. Then the dream changed, and this time he was crumpled before a sneering Voldemort, with an impassive Snape at Voldemort's right hand side and a trembling Wormtail on his left.

* * *

"Sleep well?" Dumbledore enquired the next morning.

Harry allowed a grunt to answer for him and began raiding the fridge. "Where's the orange juice?"

"You drank the last of it yesterday, I believe."

Harry pushed the fridge door shut rather more forcefully than was needed. Dumbledore gave him a stern look. "Harry."

"What?"

"You know perfectly well what. Sit."

Reluctantly, Harry sat down. Dumbledore pushed the newspaper aside with his good hand and fixed Harry with a softer expression. "Bad dreams?"

"Yeah. Not visions," Harry made sure to make clear. "Just stuff on my mind, I guess."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore accepted it. "All right. I believe the water around here is adequate for drinking, Harry." He went back to the newspaper.

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked.

"Depends whether you mean magically fuelled or not." Dumbledore sighed. "Not much either way, but you can tell everybody's getting restless. You don't have to know there's a war breaking to feel it in the air."

* * *

As Harry's birthday grew nearer, Dumbledore raised the subject of moving from Privet Drive to Grimmauld Place. Whilst he couldn't wait to get away from the Dursleys, however distant they had been, Harry wasn't sure about going back to Sirius' old house, and said so. He wasn't sure he could stand it.

When he raised this point with Dumbledore, the man answered with a smileless nod. "Believe me, Harry, I know exactly how you feel. I'm not exactly thrilled about going back to the place I forced him to stay inside for months on end." There was a long silence. "But I'm trying to think about what's best for everyone."

"Are the Weasleys there again?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, they arrived yesterday, according to Minerva. I believe Miss Granger will be arriving next week, as well, so you'll have your friends with you." He gave a weak, forced laugh. "You won't have to hang around with us stuffy grown-ups anymore."

Harry stopped. "What, you mean – all this – the 'being a bigger part of my life' thing – was just temporary?"

"I didn't – Harry, I didn't mean – Look," Dumbledore sighed. "I do want to be a bigger part in your life, and I think this summer so far has been a good step for that. But obviously I don't want to get in the way of your friendships. I'm honestly not sure where we go from here." He chuckled softly. "I love having you around, Harry, I'm just saying don't feel pressured to stick around me when your friends are around as well."

"I'm sure I can work out a balance," Harry said, feeling a bit better. "Sorry, I think I over-reacted there. I'm just really tired." He regretted the words as soon as he had said them, and Dumbledore started fussing. "Leave off, Albus, you're the one over-reacting now."

Dumbledore smiled genuinely. "I still can't get used to hearing that."

"What? Oh, the first name thing?"

"Yes, the first name thing. Harry."

"It was your idea." Harry collapsed back onto the sofa and closed his eyes. "Albus."

"Yes, Harry?"

"While this banter is all well and good, haven't we got more serious stuff to talk about?"

Dumbledore's smile vanished and he sat down as well. "I thought you would appreciate the banter."

"Oh I do, but I can't really relax now. You said you'd tell me more about the you-know-whats."

"I'm sorry, the you-know-whats?"

"Yeah, the things belonging to you-know-who." Dumbledore stared at Harry blankly. "My aunt's in the next room," Harry reminded him. "Hence the code. Never mind."

"Oh, I see. Well, I don't see how we can really have a discussion of the, er, you-know-whats with your aunt in the next room."

"She'll be going in ten mintes. Then we can discuss them," Harry said.

"I see. Why did you just not save bringing up the subject until she left? We could have had a few minutes' extra banter," Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

"Dunno, didn't think of it."

"Harry, with regard to the you-know-whats, I think I can probably explain better by showing you. And for that, I need something I don't currently have with me."

"What's that?"

"My Pensieve." Dumbledore thought for a moment. "And the thoughts to go in it, of course. Most of them aren't mine, you see."

"Right. So … what are you saying, we postpone the subject till we go to Grimmauld Place?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. I'll contact Minerva today and ask her to get it there ready for when we arrive."

Harry nodded. "When are we planning to go then?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I've been – putting it off."

Harry was just about to say something along the lines of 'that doesn't sound like you', but stopped himself. Such a comment may be taken badly at this point, he thought.

"You said you weren't looking forward to going back."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I haven't stepped foot there since the night Sirius – well – since that night. I've delegated everything to Minerva since." He gave a small smile. "She keeps telling me to get a grip and get it over with."

"As much as I don't want to go back either, sir – Albus – I think she's right," Harry said. "Putting stuff off doesn't work."

"You'd think I would have learned that by now," Dumbledore murmured, more to himself than Harry.

"Well then, maybe we should set a day now to go." Harry paused. "Tomorrow."

Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "Tomorrow? That's a – a bit soon, isn't it?"

"Well it means not having to buy more orange juice. Plus if you contact Professor McGonagall now this minute and tell her we're going tomorrow, she'll be expecting you and you'll have less time to think of an excuse to put it off again."

Dumbledore glared at Harry. "Harry, what exactly are you -"

"It's called divide and distract. If you focus on getting me there, and I focus on getting you there, then neither of us have the mental capacity left over – well, I don't, anyway, I don't know about you – to worry about how we'll feel when we get there and subsequently dig our heels in."

Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry. "Harry, I am a genius and even I have no idea what you are on about."

"So sue me, I made it up on the spur of the moment. But it sounds like it'll work. Just put all your energy into making sure I go to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, and vice versa. Call it an experiment."

* * *

As Harry packed, he regretted his words. He didn't want to see Grimmauld Place ever again. But now Dumbledore had spoken to Professor McGonagall and told her they were coming (much to her surprise, from the sound of it), he did not have much choice left.

It did not take Harry long to get his things together; everything was still in his trunk save for some homework, Hedwig and her cage, and a few bits of clothing. Harry went to bed with only the clothes he planned on wearing in the morning unpacked, and slid into a dreamless but also restless sleep.

* * *

Having checked on Harry and ascertained that he was asleep, Albus slipped out of the spare room, went downstairs and settled on the sofa, where he put the television on quietly. He knew perfectly well that if he tried to sleep tonight, he would only regret it: either he would not sleep, or he would sleep badly, and neither would be of any use.

Albus fiddled around with the buttons on the remote control and found the twenty-hour hour news channel. There was nothing being reported of specialist interest, and after he realised the same stories were being broadcast for the third time, he decided to leave it for the moment and find something else. Not fancying anything that was showing on late-night television, he began flicking through the Dursleys' video collection.

He was nearing the end of his third film when Harry entered the room. At first, Albus did not notice him, caught up in the scene involving the hero tragically dying, until Harry actually stood in front of the screen. "Albus? What are you doing?"

"Harry! You're blocking the picture!"

Harry pressed pause on the video machine. "You are packed to go today, right?"

"What? – Oh – yes. Yes, I was packed last night."

"Good." Harry continued to stand in the way, surveying Albus in confusion. "Albus, have you been down here all night?"

"Of course not," Albus lied.

"What time did you come down?"

"About … seven," Albus said, glancing at the clock. It said half past eight.

"Really? At what point did you start watching _Titanic_?"

"The beginning."

"Right. And yet you're somehow most of the way through a three-hour film."

Albus scowled. "I'm going to Grimauld Place, you don't have to check up on my viewing habits as well. Now could you move please, Harry, I want to see the end before we leave."

"Are you crying?"

"No!"

"Fine," Harry grumbled. "Breakfast?"

"Just a coffee, please. Black, extra strong." The moment Harry was out of the way Albus grabbed the remote and pressed play.

* * *

"Did you enjoy the film?" Harry asked as Dumbledore came into the kitchen later. Harry was cradling a hot chocolate and pushed a mug of steaming black coffee towards Dumbledore.

"Which one? – I mean – Yes, I did."

"I remember seeing it for the first time when the Dursleys got the video. I think they only let me watch it because I'd never liked swimming and they figured I'd run off scared at some point." Harry paused. "I determinedly watched it right to the end – minus the naked scenes, Aunt Petunia wouldn't let us or Uncle Vernon see them – and then wet myself at night for weeks." Harry thought for a moment. "I remember me and Dudley and Aunt Petunia were all crying at the end. Uncle Vernon wasn't, he'd gone out to make a coffee."

"Glad to hear I wasn't the only one. It's a very good film. It's hard to believe all the effects the Muggles can do without magic."

"But?"

"Sorry?"

"You sounded like there was a 'but' coming."

Dumbledore sighed. "I wish I hadn't watched it. Or rather than I had watched it first and _Carry on Cleo_ afterwards. It's preferable not to go through the day with death on the mind, especially in these times."

"Good point." Harry thought for a moment. "Well, maybe we could watch one more film before we go. You didn't give Professor McGonagall a time, after all. One happy, funny film and then we leave. What other ones did you watch all night?

* * *

After watching the _Muppets_ film, Harry and Dumbledore reluctantly made their way to Grimmauld Place via a Portkey. They landed outside the house on the road, rather than inside of course, but there was no issue as the road was empty.

Harry swallowed hard as the memories came flooding in, and Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder in comfort. Harry could feel his own hand trembling as he did so, and shot Dumbledore a forced smile of reassurance, took a deep breath and opened the front door.

They had barely stepped foot inside when Harry was enveloped in Weasleys – in this case, Mrs Weasley, Ron and the twins, the former two who had both tried to hug him at the same time, and the latter two who were trying to show him their latest invention.

"Goodness, boys, let him breathe!" Dumbledore said from what seemed like very far above. Mrs Weasley shoved the twins to one side and started her usual checking up on his health. "You're looking very peaky, Harry. Albus has been feeding you, hasn't he?"

"Nice to see you two, Mrs Weasley," Harry said, ducking under her arm. "Ron!"

As Harry was greeted with a "Good to see you, mate", Mrs Weasley had turned to Dumbledore and had started assessing him as well. "Albus, really, you look terrible! Have you both been starving yourselves or something?"

"I assure you, Molly, we've both eaten three square meals a day all week," Dumbledore said. "Please, could I come in?"

"Oh – sorry, Albus." Mrs Weasley moved out of the way, and as her back was turned towards Harry, he mouthed 'Liar' at Dumbledore. He received a jokey pulled face back, but Harry could see Mrs Weasley's point and was glad of her fussing, appreciating it more than usual. Looking closely at Dumbledore, he noticed the shadows under his eyes, the distinct lack of twinkle and, she was right, he did looked thinner and more worn. A lump arose in Harry's throat, wondering how he could have missed this before.

"Harry? Oy! Earth to Harry?"

"Sorry, Ron." Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Wow, I'm glad to see you too. Where is everyone?"

"Hermione's not coming till next week, you probably heard that. The twins are – where've they gone? They were there a minute ago, they must have Apparated somewhere in a huff, I missed that. Dad's on Order business with Bill and Charlie, Ginny's in her room, and the other Order members aren't here at the moment. Oh, except for Professor McGonagall, she's barely left since Dumbledore went to see you. What was that all about, by the way?"

"Er – you couldn't wait till I've got my trunk in my room and sorted my stuff out, could you Ron? I'd rather not stand here in the hall all day."

"Oh! Yeah, sure. OY!" Ron bellowed, making Harry jump. "Gred, Forge!"

The twins appeared in joint Apparition, their arms folded as one. "What do you want?" they said in unison. "Hi, Harry."

"Could one of you get his trunk up the stairs?" Ron asked.

"Sure," Fred said.

"But it will cost you," said George.

Ron groaned. "Fine, an extra hour on the till. Just do it."

Dumbledore cleared his throat behind Harry. "You said Minerva was here? Could you tell me where?"

"In the kitchen last time I saw her, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled in thanks and headed for the kitchen. Harry was just beginning to think again about what Professor McGonagall had said to him earlier when Ron clapped him on the back and made a joke, albeit an awkward one. As the twins levitated Harry's trunk up the stairs, Harry gave Ron a quizzical look.

"They've got me working on their joke shop till on Saturdays," he explained. "Till they get another member of staff."

"How's the shop going?"

"Brilliantly. They're making a bloody fortune."

Harry thanked the twins sincerely outside his room, which they brushed off as nothing and disappeared again.

"I'd forgotten they did that," Harry said, opening up his case and rifling through it. "They couldn't do it at Hogwarts."

"Yeah. Drives us all bonkers. So … how've you been?"

Harry kept his eyes focused on his trunk, as if he was talking to it rather than to Ron. "Not exactly great. Coming here again was pretty difficult. It's bringing all the memories back." Harry shivered.

"Look, mate, there's something I've been thinking about and – well, I haven't discussed this with Hermione, but I'm sure she'd say the same thing."

Harry turned to look at Ron. "What?"

"Dumbledore told you something, right? Something big. At the end of that night, when you were in his office with him. Who knows, you may have been talking about it all week with him as well." Harry opened his mouth, but Ron raised his hands to stop him. "Look, you don't have to tell me, Harry. Obviously I'm dying to know, but – I know you, and I know this is either personal or dangerous or both so for whatever reason, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I know Hermione would agree."

Harry slowly shook his head. "Ron, I _want_ to tell you."

Ron blinked at him. "Sorry?"

"It won't make sense to you, but – I don't want to end up being like Albus Dumbledore."

"Er – in what sense?"

"In the sense that he can't confide in the woman he loves." Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry shook his head. "You pick things up when you live with someone for a week. Anyway, it's not just that, I'll also need you and Hermione. Both of you. On my own I don't stand a chance."

Before Ron could say anything, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," Harry called.

Dumbledore poked his head around the door. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"We're just catching up a bit, Professor," Ron replied. "Er … is, er … Professor McGonagall -" Harry gave him a warning glare. "Is, she, er, all right?"

Harry kicked him and Dumbledore looked slightly confused.

"Yes, she's fine, Mr Weasley. Why do you ask?"

There was a short pause. "We were just worried about the amount of work she was doing," Ron said quickly. "But now you're back, it'll be back to normal, so that's all right then, everyone's all right."

"Ron," Harry ground out. "Shut up."

"Well, I will make sure to pass on your concern, Mr Weasley. I'm sure she will appreciate it. Oh, I'm sorry, I almost forgot – your mother asked me to ask if you would came down for a few minutes to help with lunch?"

"But – Harry's just got here!"

"Not Harry, just you."

"I'm okay, Ron, I'm just unpacking," Harry told him. "We can talk after lunch."

Ron sighed. "Fine. See you, Harry." He left the room, but Dumbledore didn't.

"How are you doing, Harry?"

"We've only been here half an hour," Harry answered. "To be honest, I'm just trying to keep my mind busy on other things."

Dumbledore considered. "Do you really need to unpack your Quidditch gear?"

Harry didn't answer. He had been methodically making his way through the entire trunk, regardless of whether or not he would need the things he unpacked. It was something to keep his hands, and his mind, busy. He was almost finished, he just had to put his gloves somewhere and -

He froze. Uncovered at the bottom of the trunk were five large shards of glass. A painful lump arose in Harry's throat and suddenly he couldn't hold it back. All his energy vanished and he slumped sideways onto the floor, shaking but unable yet to utter a sound.

"Harry!" Dumbledore knelt down and pulled him up, into his arms, and Harry instinctively clung on. "Sshh, sshh."

Harry heaved dry sobs for what seemed like hours, but the tears would not come. All the while his mind was whirring with regrets; things he had not asked, things they had missed out on, unresolved things they had never discussed, and worst of all that he had not been given a chance to say goodbye.

When he had finally calmed down and managed to voice this between hiccoughs, Dumbledore said, "That's what funerals are for."

"What funeral? There's no body, you need a body for a funeral."

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully. "Not necessarily."

* * *

Both knelt down on the ground. Dumbledore raised a mound of earth and tossed it aside with his wand, leaving a hole. Harry pulled open the parcel. The sky was grey and gloomy – a perfect mood for a funeral.

"Five pieces," he counted.

"Why don't you say something for each?" Dumbledore suggested. Harry nodded and carefully picked up the first shard of glass.

"Sirius." He paused.

"The words will come," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath.

"Sirius," he tried again. "You … you were the best thing that had ever happened to me. You were the first adult to try to take the place of a parent in my life, and I was thrilled. It didn't matter so much that you were on the run because you were still on the end of letters, and I wrote to you with my problems. Thank you for being there."

The first fragment dropped with a small thud, and Harry picked up the next.

"But I was scared," Harry continued, running a thumb lightly along the edge of the glass and staring into space. "Scared I was going to lose you, scared that I-I didn't deserve you in my life, and – and I tried to protect you. I decided I wouldn't use this mirror because I didn't want you to come charging up to Hogwarts to murder Umbridge on my behalf and get caught. Now look at it," he added with a sad half-laugh, glancing back at the shard. "I hoped for one wonderful minute that I could still use it to talk to you, so you wouldn't really be gone … but it doesn't work like that. I'm sorry. I put you before me, and now you're dead, and I'm the one sitting here alive." Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

The second fragment dropped, and the third found its way into Harry's hands.

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and Professor Lupin, I should have listened to Hermione, I should have tried in Occlumency … I thought I knew best and it didn't matter, and … it all came to this." Harry let out a muffled sob. "I guess Professor Snape is right. I am arrogant. And I'm sorry." Harry made to drop the third fragment in, but paused. "And … I'm sorry for not being more like my dad. But honestly, after what I've seen of him now, I don't want to be."

Harry could feel Dumbledore shaking beside him as he dropped the glass in the hole. Whether it was from cold or something else, he didn't know and didn't ask. There was a long pause as Harry contemplated the penultimate shard.

"I don't think I ever really said … thank you for the Firebolt. And sending me that birthday cake the summer before the Tournament. And the pocket-knife – though that's ruined now." Harry pulled it out of his pocket. "I tried to get through an unopenable door in the Department of Mysteries with it." Harry stared at the melted blade for a moment before tossing it in the hole too. "And thanks for letting Ron have Pigwidgeon. He really loves that owl."

The fourth fragment dropped into the ground. A long silence fell.

"There's still one left …" Harry murmured. "I don't know what else to say."

"Could … I say something?" Dumbledore asked hesitantly. Harry nodded and held out the fifth and last mirror fragment. Dumbledore took it firmly, albeit with a trembling hand.

"Sirius," he quietly addressed the glass, "I'm sorry for everything. For the part I played in this, for not being there when you needed me, for letting you and Harry down this last year." Dumbledore bent his head, clutching the fragment tighter. "And I'm sorry for the secrets. I wish I could rewrite the last few decades. But I can't, and I can only hope to make it up to you and Harry by taking a better hold on the future." Dumbledore took a deep breath. "I care about Harry as much as you did, and I swear here and now I _will_ take care of him the way you wanted to. I won't let you down again.

"Goodbye, Sirius."

"Goodbye," Harry whispered.

Dumbledore seemed to be having trouble letting go of the glass shard, but after a minute holding his shaking hand over the hole, wrestling with himself, he finally released his fingers, and the glass fell to the bottom with a thud.

A drop of rain splashed onto Harry's face. Looking up, he saw the clouds were darker than they had been when they had come outside. Neither he nor Dumbledore showed any inclination to return inside as the gentle patter turned into a waterfall, and the ground turned to lakes of mud. The icy cold seeping through Harry's clothes was a relief to the numbness he had been feeling before.

Harry suddenly broke the silence. "You're bleeding."

Dumbledore looked down at his hand where he'd been clutching the last fragment. It had broken the skin, blood streaming out and down his fingers, mixing with the rain and mud.

"It's just a scratch." Dumbledore looked up at the stars and heaved a sigh. "Nothing a simple charm won't fix."

Harry pulled out the cleaned handkerchief Dumbledore had lent him and gently tied it round the wound. "You'll need to clean it first."

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

"You're welcome." Harry looked up at the sky just as a rumble of thunder sounded. The wind whipped at his hair, throwing it into his eyes and he brushed it back carelessly, his mind a peaceful blank for the first time in weeks. Beside him Dumbledore remained silent and still, only his robes and hair billowing in the wind.

**TBC …

* * *

**

I should note that I realised after writing that conversation about the film that Titanic was not released until 1997. Forgive the inconsistency. Unfortunately when I tried to think of an alternate film my mind went blank and I did not want to postpone getting another chapter out there on that basis. I am sure I will think of one soon enough, and it doesn't detract from the story. (It's also not as long as three hours. But Harry does have a tendency to exaggerate.)

I know this chapter was posted very soon after the last, that doesn't necessarily mean the fic will be updated quicker, but as I'm currently not short on time, energy or inspiration for this fic I decided to make the most of it – also the reason for the longer chapter.


	5. Not a Fair Game

**Chapter Five: Not a Fair Game**

The next week or so passed in a vague daze to Harry. While he was still grieving, the funeral had done something to change the way it felt; he could not explain it. He tried to voice it to his friends, but as neither of them had lost a parent, it was hard to convey and he gave up and changed the subject.

Hermione arrived to be greeted by the same volley of Weasley hugs that Harry had been. She had barely been inside the house five minutes before she was lecturing Harry as badly as Mrs Weasley did.

"Gerrof, Hermione," Harry said, ducking. "Honestly, I'm fine."

"Leave the poor bloke alone, Hermione, he's already being force-fed three helpings by my mum every mealtime," Ron said from his bed. "He doesn't need you smothering him too."

"Hmph." Hermione glared at Ron before turning a more sympathetic eye back on Harry. "So, what's all this I hear about Dumbledore living with you?"

Harry, satisfied that she was no longer trying to check his health, relaxed and bit and sat down on his bed. "Not much to tell, really. He just turned up one evening. Scared the Dursleys witless, ate all the raspberry jam, and worked his way through Aunt Petunia's film collection."

Hermione chuckled while Ron looked blank. "Films?"

"Honestly, Ron, you should have done Muggle Studies. They're like very long programmes on the wizarding wireless, only you get a picture as well -"

"I'll ask Dad later," Ron interrupted. "Sorry, Harry, you were saying?"

"Well, what do you want to know?" Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, who was still frowning at having been interrupted.

"Any particular reason why he just moved in out of the blue?" she asked.

"Oh, right. Um … I don't know, it was a bit of a shock. He said something in a letter about wanting to be a bigger part of my life and, next thing I know, he's singing the school song in the Dursleys' shower."

Ron and Hermione both laughed. "Was he in tune?" Ron chortled.

"Depends on what tune he was attempting to sing it to," Harry said after a moment.

"How did you two get on?" Ron asked. "Was it really awkward?"

"A bit awkward every now and then, but much less than I thought it would be, considering I spent the whole of last year mad at him." Harry sighed.

"Are you not mad at him any more?" Ron pressed, ignoring a warning look from Hermione.

"No, I don't think so. Not really."

"How did your aunt and uncle react to him?" Ron said with a grin. "I would have paid to see their faces."

"Sadly, there were quite a few moments when I wished I had a camera," Harry laughed. "Not just the Dursleys' faces either. Professor McGonagall's was pretty priceless at one point."

Ron raised an eyebrow, and Hermione said, "Professor McGonagall was there too?"

"She came over briefly about Order business, and Snape came too." Harry chuckled at the memory. "She pulled a face at his back, then told me I 'hadn't seen anything'." The others laughed, and Harry thought. Now was the perfect moment.

"All this aside, guys, I've got something to tell you -"

"Stop," Hermione interrupted. Both Harry and Ron looked at her in surprise. "Look, Harry, I don't know how Ron feels about this but I know whatever you have to tell us you probably don't want to, and what I'm saying is – you don't have to. Ron? Do you agree?"

"He's already said the same," Harry answered before Ron could. "And it doesn't make any difference because I've made up my mind, guys. Please don't try to persuade me otherwise. Besides the fact that I don't want to keep stuff from you, there's also the fact that I'm gonna need you both."

There was a short pause, before Ron and Hermione nodded, almost in unison.

"Okay, then Harry." Hermione settled herself on the end of his bed and smiled reassuringly at him. "When you're ready."

* * *

Elsewhere in the house, Albus was frowning at a blank piece of parchment in front of him, quill poised to write but not actually doing anything yet. To the side of the blank parchment was a separate, older roll, covered in Albus' neat cursive script and dated some months previously. Albus heaved a sigh, trying to bring himself to start the new one.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts and Minerva entered. "Albus, what are you doing still working at this hour?"

"I'm not working," he retorted truthfully.

Minerva drew closer and read the top of the used parchment. "Ah."

"This is the first chance I've had to update it," Albus said, in an offhand tone but a slight tremor in his voice gave him away. "Minerva, about your part -"

"I have not changed my mind," she said firmly. "Books and knick-knacks only."

"Very well, if you insist. I hope Molly and Arthur will be a bit more accepting though."

"You're writing them in?"

Albus nodded. "As a thank you for everything they've done for Harry over the years."

"You know they'll never accept anything," Minerva pointed out.

"I intend to persuade them." Very carefully, Albus wrote the date at the top of the new parchment, as if by starting it he could persuade himself to continue.

"And Harry himself?"

There was a pause. "What by rights he should have."

* * *

Harry slept fairly well that night, for first time in a while. In the morning, he surmised that he had been in the minority. Ron was already awake, reading _Hogwarts a History_ and looked exhausted. Harry blinked a few times to make sure he was not really looking at Hermione.

"Ron?"

A weak grin greeted him. "Morning, mate. How'd you sleep?"

"Better than you, from the looks of it. Is that book what I think it is?"

"It was that or do homework." Ron set the book down. "It's quite interesting, actually, but don't you dare tell Hermione I said that. Or that I was reading it at all."

"Your secret's safe with me." Harry slid out of bed and began searching for socks. Ron continued staring at him, until Harry stopped and stared back. "What?"

Ron looked down. "It's just – I don't know how you live with it, mate. I really don't."

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, it probably helps now we know how to kill him."

"But we don't, really, do we? We just know there's an extra step before it gets to the point where you have to face him." Ron shivered. "I wouldn't be able to stand it."

"I'm trying to be optimistic here, Ron. You're not helping."

"Sorry."

"It's good to know there's hope. I mean, Albus wouldn't be telling me all this if he thought I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, would he? I'm taking it as a sign that he thinks I can do this. And hopefully survive to be your best man." Harry tried to keep his tone light, but Ron frowned.

"I'm sorry, _Albus?_ You're on first-name terms with Dumbledore now?"

"Yeah, he asked. Took a while to get used to it. To be honest, I still am getting used to it."

"Right. What was that about a best man?"

"When you and Hermione get hitched, of course." Harry received _Hogwarts a History_ in his face for that and laughed. Winding Ron up about Hermione and vice versa was always fun, even if he did sometimes end up being subjected to bodily harm.

"Talking of weddings," Ron said when they'd exhausted the resulting pillow fight, "I told you about Bill and Fleur, right?"

"Yeah, I believe you may have mentioned it six times. And your mum might also have mentioned it thirty times. And Fleur herself may just have been going on about nothing else all yesterday."

Ron's ears went pink. "Sorry I mentioned it. A wedding's a big thing, you know."

"I know, I was only teasing. Think you'll ever get married? Seriously, I mean, not looking for a pillow in the face here."

"Dunno. Guess I would if I found the right person." Ron's ears grew redder and he thrust a pillow into Harry's face anyway. "What about you?"

Harry considered. "I don't know. I'd honestly like to. Only thing is – well – who would honestly want to be Mrs Chosen One?"

No sooner had he spoken than there was a knock on the bedroom door. "Come in," called Ron, and Ginny entered.

"Morning, layabouts. Mum wants to know if you are coming down to breakfast."

"Tell her we're coming," Ron grumbled. Ginny left and he turned back to Harry. "What are you talking about mate, you're a right catch. I'm sure you'll have loads of girls after you this year."

"There's a bit of a difference between being a fan of a celebrity, and being their life partner," Harry said. "I come with bad media and public attention, political ammunition, a Dark Lord's death wish, and no lifetime guarantee."

"Well, when you put it like that," Ron said with a short grin. "Look, mate, I'm sure if you found the right woman she'd be fine with all that."

"Guess that depends on if I have the time to find her," Harry murmured, half to himself. A moment later he received _Hogwarts a History_ over the head. "Ow! Ron, what was that for?"

"For lecturing me on being positive and then not being it yourself. C'mon, let's get downstairs, I'm hungry."

* * *

Hermione seemed to have had a restless night as well, judging by the circles under her eyes, and Harry tried to push away the stabs of guilt. Instead he decided to focus his attention on other things, and studied Albus. The man had a twinkle in his eyes this morning, which was good news, but on the other hand he still looked exhausted. Harry wondered if he should talk to him about it. Albus statement "_You're not the only one grieving, Harry_" reminded him that, since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place, they had spent a lot less time talking together. Perhaps Harry should make it a priority for that day.

He did not get a chance, however. Snape spent the day in a meeting with him over the Death Eaters' activities, to which Harry was cordially not invited. Instead, he played chess with Ron while Hermione watched. Much later, when Albus had finished with Snape, he joined them in the living room.

"That looks like a pickle you're in, Harry."

Harry turned a pleading look up at him. "You couldn't give me a hint, could you please?"

"Hey!" Ron interjected. "That's not allowed!"

"I'm afraid I would have to agree with Mr Weasley, Harry, I could not possibly interfere, it would be most unfair – Minerva!"

Harry looked over to see their Head of House had also turned up. Since Albus had been back she had been spending less time at Grimmauld Place, although a lot more, Harry had to note, than she had done last year.

"Who's winning?" she asked, coming over to watch as well.

"Ron," Harry said grumpily.

"Oh dear, we can't have that. Now let's see, Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall frowned at the board. "Try moving your bishop that way." She made a vague gesture, but Harry saw what she meant and followed her instruction eagerly. "That's check I believe."

"You've got to help me now, sir!" Ron protested. "Otherwise it's not fair!"

"I'm honoured, Mr Weasley, although I should warn all players that two on each side does not necessarily constitute a fair game." Ron looked smug, until Albus continued in a rather sheepish confession, "Minerva always beats me."

A good deal many black and white pieces lying at the side of the board later, and Harry and Professor McGonagall declared checkmate. Hermione had been watching the whole game and looked highly amused. It was certainly an interesting experience; Ron now had experienced both Albus and Professor McGonagall in the same informal relationship that Harry had done all summer. After the game was over and the adults had moved on to elsewhere, Ron turned to Harry and voiced something it looked like he had been bursting to say. "I get what you meant earlier about them."

Harry and Hermione both stared at him. "Sorry?" Harry said.

"When you were talking about telling people stuff and not telling people stuff."

"Oh, that," Harry said, but Hermione still looked confused.

"Did I miss something?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. "Hermione, you're a girl," Ron said, not very tactfully.

Hermione bristled. "So?"

"So, you're always much better than us at figuring out people's feelings and that kinda stuff. You're telling me you didn't notice?"

Hermione, enlightened, chuckled. "If you mean that Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore fancy each other, I thought everyone knew; it's hardly news."

"Hermione, it's been a rumour for years. It's different when you see it for yourself."

"And," Harry added, "It's definitely more than just 'fancying'." He paused thoughtfully. "Wonder if they realise the whole school knows?"

* * *

Harry did not sleep well the next night. The first half of the night was spent reliving the moment Sirius fell through the veil. Harry only had to close his eyes to see it all over again and turned over and over in bed, trying to get to sleep properly.

After a while his thoughts turned to Voldemort. Where was he now, what was he planning? When Harry and Albus started hunting down Horcruxes, would he find out? Would he stop them? What was his next move? What was he up to that Snape didn't know about and wasn't able to pass onto the Order?

Voldemort's face in Harry's subconscious dissolved. Instead Harry was standing in Diagon Alley, in the evening or at night. There was nobody on the streets, but there was loud raucous noise coming from the Leaky Cauldron.

The Death Eaters appeared in the alley and the first spell was blasted at the pub. People were screaming, running … The Dark Mark was shot into the sky and the first woman to run out of the pub, a green-robed young witch with her hair in spikes, was instantly killed. People were trying to get out the other entrance, the one into the Muggle world, but judging by the sounds there were Death Eaters poised there too.

The whole scene was chaos. There was death everywhere. Harry couldn't stand it, but he couldn't wake up, something was forcing him to stay there -

"Harry? Harry!"

Somebody shook him roughly awake. Harry became aware of his surroundings and opened his eyes – but the movement of the image was still in them, blinding him to all else. Voldemort had appeared in front of Harry, and issued an order to the nearest Death Eater.

"There's a cellar which some of the patrons are trying to hide in. Once you've killed the others, move in and kill them too." As Voldemort finished speaking, the whole scene dissolved.

Harry shook his head violently. "What – Ron?"

"Mate, you were yelling in your sleep. Probably woke the whole house up by now. What was it, was it a vision?"

Harry opened his mouth to say 'yes', but changed his mind. "I'm not sure, but either way I've got to speak to Albus."

* * *

Harry couldn't keep still, he kept twisting his hands nervously as he waited. Albus was less restrained, pacing the kitchen. Finally, Snape reappeared in the fireplace.

"You can relax," he announced. "The Leaky Cauldron is not under attack, nor has it been. As I suspected, the Dark Lord does not currently plan to attack it."

Relief flooded Harry, but he was still confused. His visions had never been wrong before. While this one didn't feel like the others – his scar hadn't burned, for one thing – it was still far from just a dream.

Snape was now staring at Harry in somewhat hostile curiosity. "Are you certain it was the Leaky Cauldron in your vision, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry ground out.

"Are you sure it was not just a nightmare?"

"Positive. I know when it's just a nightmare, this was not."

"Severus," Albus interrupted before there could be bloodshed, "you can go home, there's obviously no need for you to stay up. We'll call you if anything happens."

Snape strode wordlessly from the room, and Albus sighed.

"Harry, are you sure it could not have just been a nightmare?"

Hurt, Harry glared at him too. "It was_ not _just a nightmare_._"

"I'm sorry, I had to ask. Were you seeing from Voldemort's perspective in the vision, as usual?"

Harry slowly shook his head. "No. No, I wasn't. And my scar didn't hurt either."

There was a long silence.

"I think we should both be getting back to bed," Albus said at last with a tired smile. "You're exhausted, Harry, and it's obviously a false alarm."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. "All right. Good night, Albus."

"Good night, Harry."

**TBC …**


	6. Let Sleeping Headmasters Lie

**Chapter Six: Let Sleeping Headmasters Lie**

Harry couldn't shake an uneasy feeling following his vision of the attack on the Leaky Cauldron. While Albus informed him that he had advised the owners to increase their magical protections, and Snape to keep an ear out for any plans, Harry got the impression that it was only as a precaution rather than an expectance.

Although he did not sleep well for the next few nights, he did not dream again or have any more visions of any kind. One sleepless night, he had given up on trying and left the bedroom, making his way to Albus' and listening outside to see if he could hear anything. As he had been during the summer, the man was still restless and Harry knocked softly on the door – if Albus was awake, he would hear, but if asleep it would not disturb him.

After a moment there was a call of, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Harry."

"Come in."

Harry turned the doorknob and entered, and it occurred to him he had not entered this room before. Even in the dim light, he could make out the Gryffindor banners pinned all over the walls.

Albus was looking at him in concern from the bed. "Harry, is everything all right?"

"Yeah – I just – couldn't sleep." There was a pause. "Thought I'd see if you were awake as well."

"I am. Do you want to sit down?" Albus moved up and Harry sat down on the bed.

"This is Sirius' room." It wasn't a question. Albus nodded wordlessly. "Is there anything of his still here?"

"I found a few photographs that had fallen down behind the desk, but otherwise no. Sorry, Harry."

Harry sighed, disappointed, and lay back against the headboard and closed his eyes. He could feel Albus' eyes on him, however, and opened his again. "Yes?"

"Do you know what the time is?"

"Er, about two I think."

Albus groaned softly and lay back down. After a few minutes he turned over, pulling the quilt out from beneath Harry and sending him toppling sideways onto the floor.

"Ouch!"

"Serves you right for sitting on my covers."

"You told me to sit down," Harry grumbled. "Grouchy."

"It's two AM. I am allowed to be grouchy at two AM."

Harry stood up and sat back down on the bed, making sure to avoid the quilt. After a minute he tucked his bare feet underneath.

"Are you cold?" Albus asked, slightly muffled by the pillow.

"Bit."

"Get under the covers, you'll never get to sleep if you're cold."

"I've kind of given up on trying, actually," Harry replied, but obliged anyway.

After a while Harry wondered if Albus had managed to go to sleep, as he didn't speak again. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, but although he felt tired sleep just wouldn't come.

A cat yowled somewhere in the neighbourhood and both wizards sat bolt upright, wands whipped out at the ready. They dissolved into giggles at the sight of each other, once they realised that there was no threat.

"Oh dear," Albus said finally. "I think it's time to give up and get some hot chocolate."

* * *

The soothing hot drink definitely helped. While Harry and Albus attempted to strike up a conversation, they were both so tired the speaking was few and far between. Harry's brain felt half-asleep.

After the hot chocolate had become cold dregs of chocolate, Ron stumbled into the room, rubbing his eyes. "Morning. I think."

"Good morning, Mr Weasley," Albus said.

"What's the time?" Ron grunted in reply.

Harry checked his watch. "Just gone four."

"What are you two doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Harry replied.

"This a private amnesiac society, or can anyone join?"

"I think you mean insomniac society, Ron. Pull up a chair." Harry considered as Ron did so. "Join the Insomnia Society. Five Knuts to sign up, then get hot chocolate and eye bags for free."

"Speak for yourselves," Ron remarked. "I'm only awake because Crookshanks jumped onto my head. Then I saw you'd gone so I came down to look for you."

"How did Crookshanks get into the room?"

"You left the door open, matey. Thought we agreed we were going to keep it shut so that bloody cat couldn't get in."

"Sorry," Harry said. "It _was_ two AM."

"No excuse," Ron muttered.

* * *

It was a shocked Mrs Weasley that discovered Harry and Albus still awake three hours later, long after Ron had returned to bed, and threatened to Bat-Bogey Hex them if they didn't go to bed that instant. To his surprise, when Harry collapsed into his bed he fell asleep immediately.

It was just after midday when he finally awoke, having slept soundly until then. After just lying there for a while enjoying having an unusually blank mind, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way downstairs.

"Mum's furious at Dumbledore," Ron informed him in between directing his chess pieces. "She said he should be setting an example. Think he was too tired to argue. He's been looking a bit rough lately, hasn't he?"

"I'm not surprised, if he's been having late-night chats with Harry every night," Hermione said. "Um, pawn to E5."

Ron promptly set his knight onto her and she sighed.

"It isn't every night," Harry protested. "And it's not his fault if he can't sleep either."

"D'you know what the problem is?" Ron said curiously, ignoring Hermione's frown. "I mean, he didn't look half that bad after You-Know-Who came back."

"I think it's Sirius," Harry said quietly, staring at his friends' chess board rather than at either of their faces.

"I didn't know they were close," Hermione ventured.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, but he told me I wasn't the only one grieving. Hey Hermione, if you move your knight – no, the other one – you can put Ron in check."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Ooh, thanks, Harry."

Ron shot Harry a glare, but he just grinned back.

"So, is Albus up yet or has your mum tied him to his bed?" Harry directed at Ron.

"Neither. I'm guessing he won't be up for a while. You slept through a great scene this morning; he came downstairs about an hour after Mum sent him up and she not only cast the Bat-Bogey Hex, but contacted both Professor McGonagall _and_ Madam Pomfrey and between the three of them they managed to force him to take a sleeping potion." Ron shook his head in amusement. "It was brilliant. I think the combined force of those three is scarier than You-Know-Who."

Harry could certainly imagine that. "Wish I'd seen that. Wouldn't have wanted to be another victim, mind."

"Yeah. Anyway, it was a pretty strong potion so I reckon he'll be out for hours. Just hope there are no emergencies in the meantime. Sorry, Hermione, that's checkmate. Nice move though, you two almost had me there."

* * *

When Albus awoke, there was bright sunlight streaming through the crack between the two curtains. He groaned and turned over. A few floors below him, he could vaguely hear sounds of someone in the kitchen. He wondered what the time was.

A creak of floorboard just outside the room made him stiffen, and his fingers closed on his wand. Albus lay completely still as the door slowly opened, then sat bolt upright, wand raised.

"Merlin, Albus!" Harry gasped. "I thought you were asleep!"

Albus lowered his wand sheepishly, now feeling rather dizzy from the sudden movement. "Sorry."

"I see you're awake at last."

Albus stifled a yawn. "Half awake, at any rate. What is the time, Harry?"

"Nearly midday. That's midday on Thursday, by the way. Do you want some breakfast, you must be starving."

"Yes, I – _Thursday?_ What happened to Wednesday and Tuesday?"

"You slept through them. We were beginning to think Mrs Weasley had given you a Draught of Living Death."

Albus rubbed his eyes. He could feel Harry still staring at him, and he didn't like the close scrutiny. He was not blind to the fact that Harry had been giving him what he called 'health-assessment looks' for several days now, resembling closely the ones he was now on the permanent receiving end of from Minerva, Molly and Poppy. What Harry did not seem to realise is that he looked at least as bad as Albus thought he did himself.

"Anyway, d'you feel better for your little nap?" Harry continued with a grin on his face.

Albus considered. "Yes, I do, actually."

"Good. Do you want breakfast, then? I can bring some up if you want?"

Albus thanked Harry, almost in a daze, and Harry exited the room, leaving Albus alone with his thoughts. Most of the exhaustion had gone, but the gnawing grief had not. He sighed. It would take a lot more than sleep to heal that.

He flexed his blackened hand, which although no longer bandaged was still stiff and painful. In some odd way, he was glad of it; as if the wound was a symbol of something that had recently died within him, something to show for what was going on inside, even if nobody else ever thought of it in that way. Albus resisted the urge to scratch at the itching skin, and looked instead at his left hand – a little worn, but still, healthy and whole. As if at a private joke, Albus smiled, some tension leaving him.

Harry returned, laden with a full breakfast, pumpkin juice and a potion vial. "Mrs Weasley made me bring it up in case you refused to eat anything," he explained. "It's a nutrition potion. I'm under strict orders to tip it down your throat if needs be."

Albus chuckled. "I don't think that will be necessary, Harry. Thank you for the breakfast."

"You're welcome." Harry watched Albus carefully as he picked up the knife and fork. "Um, do you want a hand?"

"I think I'm all right, thank you Harry." Now the bandages were removed he could hold most objects, albeit not without pain. Harry obviously picked up on that, because he removed the knife firmly from Albus' grasp and cut the sausage for him.

Albus murmured thanks again, conscious that it was the third time in about a minute. After a few more minutes, Harry spoke again.

"Albus?"

"Yes?"

"Um … I was just thinking, while you were asleep … we haven't talked much since we arrived. Personal stuff, or, um, Voldemort stuff."

Albus nodded slowly. "No, we haven't."

"Have you got your Pensieve here?" Harry asked.

The rest of the breakfast forgotten, Albus slid out of bed and opened Sirius' old wardrobe. Inside, on one of the side shelves, was the Pensieve. "Ta-da. I asked Minerva to bring it over."

He didn't miss a twitch of Harry's mouth at the mention of Minerva's name. "Harry?"

"What?"

"What was that for?"

"What was what for?" Harry asked innocently.

Albus decided to drop it. "Never mind. Now …" He lifted up his robes, neatly folded on the shelf below, and tucked safely underneath where he had left them were the tiny memory vials. He drew out the one he wanted, and turned to face Harry with it.

"Ready to meet Tom Riddle?"

* * *

There was an Order meeting that night. Harry, who had spent the afternoon quietly mulling over the memory he had viewed in Albus' Pensieve, was both startled and pleased at being invited in.

He was greeted by the Order members, most of them already seated, all staring at him as he entered. Albus gave him a sharp nudge in his back and he moved towards a spare chair.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Snape was the first to speak.

"I thought Harry should be present for this one -" Albus began. Mrs Weasley rode over him.

"Albus, really, we've had this conversation before, Harry's not a member -"

"For the first part of the meeting, anyway," Albus said, louder. "As it does involve him, and he will be informed anyway."

Mrs Weasley accepted, but reluctantly. Harry, ignoring Snape's silent sulking, sat down between Mr Weasley, and Tonks, who whispered, "Wotcher, Harry," and winked.

"Now," Albus began, settling into the chair at the head of the table. "Our first topic this evening is protection at Hogwarts. Minerva?"

Harry followed his gaze, and Professor McGonagall, all eyes now on her, sat up a little straighter and spoke in her usual business-like tone.

"We've had feedback from most parents and guardians on the subject of re-appointing Remus," she said, and Harry glanced sideways at Lupin, surprised. "I'm happy to announce it's been overwhelmingly positive so far."

"Really?" Lupin looked stunned. "The parents are happy for a werewolf to teach Defence?"

"A common response was that, going by what the pupils have said, you sounded like a far better teacher than Dolores Umbridge," Professor McGonagall replied, shooting Lupin a smile.

"Were there any objections at all, Minerva?" Albus asked.

"Well, yes, unfortunately there were some. The majority sound happy, however."

"In that case, Remus, I think we can welcome you back, part-time," Albus said cheerfully. "Alastor, are you still happy to take the rest of the students?"

"I suppose so," Moody growled. "Is the pay negotiable?"

Albus chuckled, but Snape spoke over it. "Forgive my interruption, but Albus, are you sure you're doing the right thing here?"

"Yes," Albus replied firmly. "We know Voldemort's focus is still on Hogwarts; we need as many Order members there as we can. Let's not forget, either, who the Ministry of Magic can get away with appointing if there is a position open."

There was a short silence while the kitchen's occupants contemplated the horror that had been Umbridge.

"Anyway," Albus continued, although with slightly less cheer, "if anybody has any more objections, you can see me privately afterwards." Harry repressed a grin at the look on Snape's face, as if he had just been ticked off. "Kingsley?"

It was a moment before Kingsley replied, in his deep, slow voice. "Amelia Bones has been raising a question of placing Aurors around Hogwarts, or certainly the entrances to the grounds. Nothing official has been reached yet, the Ministry won't notify you until then."

Albus nodded. "Thank you, Kingsley. I certainly think we should have _someone_ stationed around the grounds; however, our resources are spread thin as it is …"

"And you don't trust the Ministry," Tonks finished for him.

"Amelia Bones, there is no problem with," Mr Weasley spoke up. "She's sensible, has her head screwed on properly. I can't vouch for the rest of the officials."

Albus nodded. "I will discuss the matter with the Ministry in due course. What about you, Nymphadora? How are the emergency Portkeys coming along?"

Tonks leaned forwards, grinning. "They're almost ready, Albus, just need the passwords setting. At the moment they're set to a default."

"Which is?"

"Er," Tonks squirmed slightly, "'Toad-face'."

There was a ripple of laughter around the table; Harry noticed it was the ones who had known Umbridge who were laughing the loudest. Tonks looked less sheepish.

"Excellent," said Albus finally. "We'll have them as soon as you can, Nymphadora." Tonks nodded. "I think that just leaves the matter of Hogsmeade weekends. Rather than deny the students their privileges, I thought it best if we arranged for as many Order members as possible to be stationed in the vicinity on those days."

"I agree." It was Lupin who had spoken up again. "In these times, the kids need stuff like Hogsmeade visits, and Quidditch matches."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Albus, maybe if we agreed on the dates as soon as possible, and then handed them around, everyone can be aware when they need to be available."

"What about Quidditch?" Harry spoke up for the first time. Everyone turned their gaze on him. "I know the whole school's there when there's a match on, but it's still pretty exposed."

"It would be a smart move on You-Know-Who's front to attack then," Mrs Weasley added. "He would not have the additional step of breaking into the building itself."

"It's hardly a big step, compared with breaking into the grounds -" Snape began, but Albus nodded at Mrs Weasley.

"You're right, Molly, Harry. I think Quidditch matches should be put on the list with Hogsmeade weekends. And, Harry -"

"Yes?"

"I also think there should be at least one staff member – preferably an Order member – at hand whenever teams are training; your team in particular." Harry, who had been expecting something like this, nodded.

"Now … Harry. About this club of yours -"

"The DA?" Harry queried, surprised.

"Yes. Are you thinking of continuing it?"

Harry paused. It hadn't yet crossed his mind. "I hadn't thought about it. I guess, if we've got Professors Lupin and Moody teaching us, we don't really need -"

"I beg to differ," Moody spoke up, taking everyone by surprise. "Not saying anything about my teaching skills, or Remus', but the students need all the Defence they can get. Especially with their history of shoddy teachers." He sent a glare in Albus' direction. "They've got a lot to catch up on; Potter's club can help them."

"That was going to be more or less my point," Albus said. "If you're all right with that, Harry, we can make it an official school organisation and publicise it so other students can join."

Harry nodded, finding himself grinning now. "Yeah, great."

"Good. Well – does anybody have anything else to say about the new term?"

Silence.

"I think the first part of our meeting is over, then. Harry, could I have a quick word outside?" Harry nodded, standing. "Molly, maybe you could put the kettle on?"

Albus ushered Harry outside, and closed the door quietly. "Harry, there's something I wanted to ask you."

"Shoot," Harry replied.

"You know, obviously, that the Order knows about the prophecy." Harry stiffened slightly. "They all have a vague idea what it says, but no details. I was wondering if you would permit me to fill them in – it is about you, after all."

It didn't take long to consider. "I guess they should know. Yeah, go ahead."

Albus nodded. "Good man. Also – have you told your friends?"

Harry nodded.

"I think that's a wise move. About the …" Albus dropped his voice. "You-know-whats, as well. You're going to need their support, in the times ahead."

Harry nodded again, a lump in his throat he could not get rid of.

"Oh, and one last thing. I hope you're not looking forwards too much to having Remus back?"

Harry frowned. "Sorry?"

"Well, I've been thinking it over and I feel it would be best, all round, if you learned Defence Against the Dark Arts from me this year." Harry's mouth fell open. "Privately, that is. Assuming you have no objections?"

"I … no."

"I think, also, that you should take up Occlumency again." Harry's mouth fell open, but before he could respond, Albus continued. "Again, from myself. Is that all right with you, Harry?"

Learning Occlumency from Albus? Harry had no objections. "Yeah, that's okay."

"Excellent."

* * *

"Meeting adjourned."

As the members all stood, preparing to leave the kitchen, Albus remained seating. "Molly, Arthur, could I have a word?"

"Of course, Albus."

The other members filed out. Minerva looked back at him and mouthed, 'You're wasting your breath' at him. Albus merely chuckled.

Once the room was otherwise empty, Albus flicked his wand and the door shut swiftly behind Severus, who had been last to leave. "I was hoping," he addressed the Weasleys, "to get you to reconsider my offer."

"Oh, Albus." Molly sighed. "We are flattered, really, but we can't accept -"

"I am willing to negotiate on the amount," Albus said firmly. "However, I insist upon you accepting _something_; I will not take no for an answer."

"I don't really understand, Albus," Arthur said softly. "Why now? And why us?"

There was a long silence. "I told you my reasons -"

"You said you wanted to repay us for our kindness. But Albus, we didn't do it for any kind of reward; we love Harry, we wanted him to feel like part of a family."

Without her realising it, Molly's words had unexpectedly stung. Albus shook himself. "I know, Molly, and that's precisely _why_ I wish to do this."

"You haven't answered the first question, Albus," Arthur said. "Why now?"

Albus dropped his eyes. "I've been asking the same thing," he murmured.  
**  
TBC …**


	7. Protests Too Much

**Chapter Seven: Protests Too Much**

"Eleven year old Tom Riddle sounds …" Ron shuddered. "Dunno. Creepy."

Harry had to agree. Hermione looked deep in thought.

"I'm not really sure what that memory had to do with the Horcruxes, Harry."

"I mentioned that," Harry replied. "The point is Voldemort liked to keep trophies. Stuff he'd stolen from the other kids. Think it'll be significant when working out what Voldemort's Horcruxes actually are."

"Or where they are?" Ron interjected.

"Be patient, Ronald. We'll get to that bit."

"So, how'd the Order meeting go?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Interesting. They were talking about protections for Hogwarts." Harry paused. "Lupin's coming back, by the way."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

"And Moody – well, it's not really _back_ for him 'cause he didn't actually get to do any teaching, but you know what I mean."

"So what, are they going to share the job?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Some parents objected to Lupin's re-appointment, so I guess Moody'll have their kids and maybe others."

"That's good," Hermione said. "It means there will be more Order members at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, that was Albus' thinking," Harry said.

"So, what else?"

Harry stretched and sat up. "He's going to be teaching me this year, privately."

"Who, Dumbledore?"

"Yeah."

"Teaching you Defence?" Hermione queried.

"Interspersed with Occlumency," Harry said with a mock grimace.

"Sounds brilliant, mate," Ron said. "Well, maybe not the Occlumency bit, but I'll bet Dumbledore's a better Defence teacher than any we've had. He's lived it all, hasn't he. Nothing against Lupin, but Dumbledore, well – he's Dumbledore, isn't he?"

"We know what you mean, Ron," said Hermione, while Harry chuckled.

"So, will you be passing your new skills onto us lowly classmates?" Ron asked. "We doing the DA again or what?"

"We've got the Order's blessing on that," Harry said. "It's going to be made an official club, too, so anyone can join. No more sneaking around to secret meetings."

"Shame," Ron said. "That was half the fun."

* * *

Harry knocked softly on Sirius' old bedroom door. "Albus? Are you in there?"

"Come in, Harry," was the reply.

Upon entering, Harry saw Albus standing by his Pensieve, apparently deep in thought. "Sorry, am I disturbing you?"

"No, not at all." Albus flicked his wand and the basin shut itself away. "You've given me an excuse to think of something else." He turned and smiled at Harry, although after a moment he faltered slightly. "Weren't you going with your friends to Diagon Alley today?"

"No, tomorrow. Besides ..." Harry hesitated. The request still sounded too childish to him. "I wanted to spend some time with you, if that's okay."

"Of course it is, if you really want to, er, hang out with your headmaster all day?"

Harry half-grinned, half-grimaced. "Yeah, but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"Never, ever say 'hang out' again. You really need to stop watching children's television, Albus."

Albus chuckled in response. "Well, there's an Order meeting in ten minutes, but now and afterwards I'm all yours." He sat down on the bed and motioned for Harry to join him. "As it happens, you're just in time, I was thinking about your Occlumency lessons."

Harry pulled a face. "A summer Occlumency lesson wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"Very droll, Harry. No, I was thinking about how to organise it." Albus paused, apparently thinking. "You see, while I'm reluctant for obvious reasons to send you back to Professor Snape -"

"I thought you said you would be teaching me!" Harry exclaimed, horrified.

"I did, and I keep that promise, but the reasons I was wary of invading your mind personally last year are still valid. I know Voldemort will be more reluctant now to make an attempt on yours, but we can't rule out that at some point he may decide it's worth the risk – and if he does so, not only will he have access to thoughts and memories in both of our minds, but a short but violent attack will most likely result in permanent brain damage for any of us, yourself being the highest risk."

There was a long silence. "I vote we avoid that possibility," Harry said at last.

"Precisely. This is why I have been thinking – you see, there is a third option, which is a method of learning that doesn't involve the teacher directly invading the pupil's mind. Have you heard of third-person Occlumency?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"Well, it's like it sounds. There are three people involved, the teacher and two students, who learn by practicing on each other. Obviously, there are a couple of catches that way."

"There are?"

"Well, for a start, the students have to be taught Legilimency first or there's no point trying to block each other. Legilimency can come in useful, though, so don't be put off by it. The other catch is that, considering you _are_ going to be delving into each other's heads, you, Harry, have to pick your partner carefully. Somebody you trust absolutely and you feel comfortable – well, as comfortable as possible – delving into your mind."

Harry thought hard. The obvious choice would be Ron or Hermione, but somehow he still felt awkward at the thought of one of them seeing everything he had ever experienced.

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course. I would recommend, however, picking the person you feel you trust the most with personal secrets – which, I should point out, is not necessarily the first person or people who leap to mind." Albus smiled at Harry's confused expression.

"Who would you pick?" Harry asked, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than he knew the answer. Albus looked slightly stunned at the question, but Harry couldn't help but notice a light blush in his cheeks.

"I ... don't know," Albus said slowly.

"Really?" Harry said, pretending to think carefully about it. "I'd have thought Professor McGonagall would be your choice."

There was no mistaking the blush now, and Albus, glaring at Harry, stammered, "What exactly are you implying?"

"I didn't realise there was anything to imply, sir," Harry tried to say in an innocent voice, but he desperately wanted to laugh.

"There isn't," Albus said firmly. "Minerva is a close friend; there has never, nor will there ever be, anything more to it, all right?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh now. "I think the man protests too much."

"If you have something to say, Harry, just come out and say it."

"Okay, fine. When are you two going to admit you're in love with each other?"

Albus spluttered incoherently for about a minute, while Harry watched in amusement. Finally, Albus managed to gasp out, "How did you -"

"Know?" Harry shrugged. "The signs have always been there. If there was any doubt in my mind, it vanished this summer. You two make a really sweet couple, you know. Have you ever actually told her how you feel?"

After opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish a few times, Albus managed to stammer, "She knows. She's known for – for years."

"And you know she feels the same way, right?"

A dumb nod.

"So, excuse my language, but why the hell aren't you together?"

"Harry!"

"What? You asked me to call you by your first name, I assumed that gave me the right to ask personal questions?" Harry said with a grin.

"It's not that simple," Albus said with a sigh, returning to the original question. "Harry, you know who I am, you know how many wizards would love to see me dead. When you have enemies like I do -"

"I do, don't forget. I'm probably the one person Voldemort wants dead more than you. But I still don't really see your point."

"Harry, if anything happened to Minerva because of me -"

"What does Professor McGonagall have to say herself about that?" Harry interrupted.

"We did talk – discuss – a long time ago. She agreed it was best."

"Albus, don't get me wrong, I understand how you feel," Harry said, frowning. "But it's flawed logic. Voldemort, or any other wizard that hates you, wouldn't actually care whether you were in a relationship with her or not. As long as they know you love her, they know it will hurt you."

"I'm aware of that," Albus almost snapped. "Why do you think we've both worked so hard to keep it a secret?"

Harry stared at him. "Um, Albus ..."

"Yes?"

"I hate to burst your bubble, but however discreet your feelings may seem to the two of you, the rest of the wizarding world doesn't share your view."

"What – what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret. Hogwarts students have been discussing the pair of you for years. Bill Weasley said it was going on long before _he_ started. It's obvious. There's a betting pool set up for deciding when you'll admit – to each other or publicly – that you're head over heels. You really never heard the rumours?"

There was a long silence. Albus was staring at Harry as if he could not believe his ears.

"Honestly, sir, I really don't see any point in avoiding a relationship. Even if Voldemort doesn't know you love her, all he has to do to find out is to ask one of his Death Eaters with a kid here. You two may as well be happy if that's the only thing stopping you."

Albus finally spoke, in a strangled sort of voice. "Harry, why could you not have said all this to me four decades ago?"

"Um, maybe because I wasn't born then?"

"That's no excuse," Albus muttered. Before Harry knew what he was doing, Albus had stood up and bolted from the room. Harry followed.

Albus hurried down to the kitchen. Harry could hear voices behind the closed door. Without pausing to knock, Albus pulled the door open sharply.

"Albus!" From the tone of Mrs Weasley's voice, he had startled her. "You're not late, I was about to call you -"

"I need a word with Minerva," Albus said. "It's urgent, it can't wait."

"Can't wait?" Harry said in Albus' ear.

"I have waited forty-five years, Harry, I am not waiting a second longer."

Professor McGonagall appeared at the door. "Albus, what is it? Is everything all right?"

"I need to talk to you. In private," Albus added as Mrs Weasley looked ready to follow them into the hall.

"Albus? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong – that is -" Albus stood still for a moment, apparently unable to express vocally, because he finally leaned forward, took Professor McGonagall's face in a gentle caress and kissed her.

Harry's face split into a grin. He slipped, unnoticed by them, into the living-room. "Guys!" he addressed Hermione and the Weasleys. "Come and see this!"

Astonished giggles, and a wolf-whistle from one of the twins, echoed in the hall as they gaped at the pair, but Albus and Professor McGonagall didn't seem to notice.

"They've got to surface for air at some point, surely?" Ron whispered.

Harry had just agreed when the two finally broke apart. He shushed the others, and they continued watching.

"Albus – I – I don't understand," Professor McGonagall whispered. "Why – after everything we said – why now?"

Albus kissed her hand, clutching it to his chest. "Harry spoke some sense into me," was his simple reply. Harry could feel the Weasleys' astonished gazes on him.

Professor McGonagall now looked half-amused, half-exasperated. "Well, if that's all it took -"

"Minerva," Albus said, cutting her off. "I've been a fool." She started to correct him, but he wouldn't let her. "No, I have, we both know it. If I had just opened my eyes then we could have spent all these years together ..."

"Albus -"

"But I'm going to do it right, now," Albus said firmly. As they all watched him, he reached up to the chain around his neck and opened the locket, withdrawing something from inside.

Professor McGonagall let out such a gasp, for a moment Harry thought she might be having a heart attack.

"Your mother's ring," she gasped. "Albus -"

Harry realised with an incredulous, exited jolt what was happening as Albus lowered himself onto one knee.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered.

"Minerva," Albus said. "This question is nearly half a century overdue, but better late than never – will you marry me?"

Before Harry could stop them, the twins had shouted in unison, "Say yes, Minnie!"

The Professors finally looked around at them, Albus wobbling slightly. Professor McGonagall cast a silencing spell at them, and turned back to Albus. As she did so, the kitchen door opened and Tonks looked out to see what was going on.

"Is everything all right, we heard -" She broke off, her eyes wide. "_Professor?_" She turned back into the room. "Professor Dumbledore's proposing!"

There was a scraping of chairs and the sound of many people fighting their way to the door. Albus and Professor McGonagall chose to ignore their growing audience.

"Albus ..." Professor McGonagall said slowly.

"Mina, my dear, a quick answer would be much appreciated; my knees aren't quite what they were," Albus said in a rush.

Professor McGonagall chuckled. "You can stand up, Albus."

"Not until I get an answer," Albus said stubbornly.

Harry felt a sudden panic. What if she said no? A broken-hearted Albus Dumbledore was not a person he ever wished to know, and it would be all his fault -

Professor McGonagall's face, as though someone had lit a bulb inside of it, flooded suddenly with the most beautiful smile Harry had ever seen her wear, and he nearly passed out with relief. "Yes!"

Albus, who for the last few seconds had looked positively terrified, grinned and jumped to his feet, pulling her into another kiss. Applause and cheering broke out in the hall.

"I love you," Albus breathed as they drew apart.

"I love you too," Professor McGonagall whispered, her eyes still closed.

Albus flicked his wand, and the previously dingy hall was flooded with light; the walls gleamed like marble and flowers twisted themselves in mid-air, forming a heart-shaped arch. Professor McGonagall finally opened her eyes, and gasped. "Albus! Here, now?"

"My dear, what on earth," Albus said in between another kiss, "is the sense of waiting any longer?"

After a short pause to consider the question, she flung her arms around him, almost knocking them both to the floor.

"Albus." Snape spoke hesitantly, as if afraid of bursting their bubble. "You don't have anyone here who can conduct the ceremony -"

"We don't need one," Albus replied.

Hermione, as if reading Harry's mind, whispered in his ear, "There's a magical ritual, it does it for them."

The hall was still changing. More flowers crept up the walls and around the banisters, which had turned from polished black wood to gold. Still more flowers entwined themselves into a bouquet in mid-air, which then floated towards Professor McGonagall for her to take. Albus' robes turned from the red everyday ones he had been wearing for the last couple of days to a deep, midnight blue. But the most astonishing transformation was Professor McGonagall herself, who after a moment was dressed in a flowing white dress, complete with veil, her long hair tumbling in raven waves down her back to her waist.

"Wow," was the general murmur.

Harry looked around at the people gathered there. The whole Order, including a couple of people he didn't really know, had been crammed in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen but were now shuffling around for everyone to get a good view. One man Harry recognised as the barman of the Hog's Head, seemed particularly intent on getting to the front. He gave Professor McGonagall a saucy wink, who rolled her eyes in response. Hagrid, who had appeared without Harry noticing, was stooped in the hall with his mouth hanging open.

Albus lifted his wand up and drew a circle around himself and Professor McGonagall, murmuring the words "_Venificus diligo redimio_." A shimmering pink-gold mist swirled around them, and Harry could hear a gentle, tinkling music.

"Ready?" Albus asked Professor McGonagall.

"Not quite." She turned around, her eyes moving into the corner. "Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked quite surprised. "Yes, Professor?"

"In the absence," Professor McGonagall said, "of my father and my brothers, I was hoping you would give me away."

Hagrid's mouth dropped open, but he nodded vigorously a second later. "O', o' course, Professor. It's an honour!" He couldn't quite stand up straight, but managed to walk over and offered his arm to her, his face flushed with pride. Harry couldn't help but grin. A camera flashed somewhere in the crowd, which started shuffling again to form an isle wide enough for Hagrid and Professor McGonagall to walk down.

"It's amazing," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear. He had to agree. Professor McGonagall looked simply radiant; she and Albus were both smiling away, as happy as Harry had ever seen them.

Before the ceremony could start properly, there was a call from behind Harry. "Oy, Albus! Who's your best man?"

The speaker was the barman. Albus frowned at him, then turned thoughtful, and after a moment his eyes started sweeping the crowd, looking for someone. They paused, and Harry turned to see who he was looking at.

"Harry!" Albus said delightfully. "Come on up!"

Harry's mouth fell open; if Professor McGonagall's request for Hagrid was a surprise, this was unforeseen. "Me?"

"No, the other Harry Potter," Albus replied, beckoning.

Harry was frozen to the spot in surprise, but Hermione gave him a sharp dig in the back and he stumbled forwards. As he approached the couple, Albus nudged him to stand in place next to him, facing the crowd. His friends looked gobsmacked and he felt rather shocked himself.

Mrs Weasley shushed everyone, and the hall fell silent. Albus took Professor McGonagall's hands in his again.

"Minerva Caitlyn McGonagall," he said, beaming broadly. "You are the love of my life, my constant companion, the best friend I could ever have, and I cherish every moment I spend with you. I love you because you've always been there, my dependable rock, the one I always go to for guidance. I love you because you know me better than anyone; you understand me, often more than I do myself, and yet somehow you're still willing to spend the rest of your life with this barmy old codger anyway, which I think is something none of us can fathom." There was a small ripple of laughter.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore -" Harry caught Ron's eye and hastily looked back at the couple before they both started sniggering. "You are the most extraordinary man I have ever met." Professor McGonagall paused, smiling, before continuing. "You are also the most frustrating and stubborn man I have ever met, and I have to tell you repeatedly that I don't like sherbet lemons." The crowd was sniggering and Albus looked dumbstruck. "You drive me insane on a daily basis, and I know that won't lessen by being your wife, if anything the insanity will increase." She beamed wider. "But you're sweet and kind and you understand me in the deepest possible sense, and you're always there for me when I need someone to listen, or just to share a cup of tea with. You always know the best ways to cheer me up and make me laugh. And that is why I love you, now and forever."

Harry could hear Hagrid sobbing loudly and he blew his nose in his enormous spotted handkerchief. The noise half-drowned out the declarations of "I do", but as Albus and Professor McGonagall kissed, a small explosion of fireworks went off in the hall. The shimmering mist coiled around their entwined hands, smoothly turning to a solid gold rope, which then shrunk and separated until it became two gleaming gold rings, which solidified fully upon settling on their fingers.

Fawkes, whom Harry had not noticed before, swooped out of nowhere and circled above the couple's heads, trailing red and gold sparks. Professor McGonagall threw her bouquet into the air, where it vanished among the Order and Harry could hear a lot of scrabbling around. The twins, whose silencing charm was obviously no more, both wolf-whistled. "Hey, Harry!" George called. Before he could make a comment, he let out a yelp as someone's fist collided with his face. Fred, who up until that point had looked as though he was about to join in, edged away as fast as he could.

The crowded hall now surged with movement as everyone rushed forward to congratulate the new couple. Harry decided it would be safer to get out of the line of fire, and fought his way to the wall, where he stood to watch. He was joined a minute later by Ron.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Ron grinned at him. "Can't believe Dumbledore made you his best man. You two're obviously closer than I gave you credit for."

"Closer than _I_ gave us credit for as well," Harry said. "I don't have to make a toast, do I?"

Ron chuckled. "I'd like to see that. What are you going to do, improvise?"

"Going to have to, I didn't exactly get a lot of notice to plan one," Harry murmured.

"Don't worry, when you're my best man I promise to give you plenty of time to plan one. Oh, by the way," Ron said, a wicked grin on his face, "Ginny caught the bouquet."

"So?" Harry said, having guessed this already.

"You'd better watch out, I'm just saying. The twins will tease you mercilessly and Mum will get obsessed with the idea of Potter grandchildren. She's probably imagining what to knit them for their first birthdays this second."

"Ron, you know Ginny doesn't fancy me any more."

"Who says?"

"Hermione, so it must be true."

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, remembering their conversation on the subject months beforehand. "Well, that won't stop Mum planning it all out, anyhow. I'd keep a safe distance from Ginny when she's around, if I were you."

**TBC …**


	8. Do Not Disturb

**Chapter Eight: Do Not Disturb**

Harry didn't think he had seen Grimmauld Place so crowded. While a fair few people had stopped by to congratulate him last year after his hearing, the kitchen was now a party scene. Albus had enchanted it in much the same way as he had the hallway, and a short while into the celebrations, the barman of the Hog's Head had disappeared, and then reappeared with bottles and bottles of some unknown drink.

The twins made a beeline for the drinks, and Harry laughed as Mrs Weasley hurried over to head them off. His name being called made Harry turn round, and he saw Albus behind him.

"Congratulations," Harry said with a grin, clinking his Butterbeer against Albus' wine.

"It's thanks to you, really," Albus replied. "Minerva and I wanted to thank you – Mina?" he said, turning round. "Goodness, I've lost her already …"

Professor McGonagall had been cornered by well-wishers, and sent him a look that pleaded _Help!_ Albus fought his way over, and Harry followed.

"I was really surprised to be your best man," he told Albus on the way. "Flattered, but unexpected."

"Harry, I honestly can't think of anyone better for it," Albus said firmly.

Harry felt something warm inside of him that had nothing to do with the Butterbeer.

"Do you want me to make a toast?" he said. "That's what normally happens, right?"

"Well, you don't have to Harry; I know it's a bit short notice to prepare a speech," Albus said. "But it would be much appreciated if you did."

Harry nodded. "Okay, I'll try. I can't promise much eloquence, though."

Albus chuckled, and caught up with his wife, only to be pulled into the crowd of well-wishers himself. Harry drained the last of his Butterbeer and looked around. Ron was making his way over to him with three bottles, Hermione in tow.

"Ron, you really shouldn't – that's stuff's strong -"

"Come on, Hermione, live a little," Ron said, uncapping the first bottle.

"What exactly is that?" Harry said warily.

"Dunno. I got it off the bearded bloke from the Hog's Head."

"You remember what Flitwick said about the hygiene in that place?" Hermione sniffed.

"Come on, Hermione, they're sealed bottles." Ron made to taste the drink, but was interrupted.

"_Ronald Weasley!_" His mother was hurrying over. "I thought I told you you weren't to go within three feet of that drink!" She snatched the bottle from his hands and shoved it into Hermione's. "Now, if you've finished your underage drinking, you can come with me and wish the happy couple best wishes."

Harry and Hermione watched as Mrs Weasley dragged Ron off by the ear. Hermione looked down at the opened bottle. Tentatively she sniffed the drink, and took a sip. She pulled a face.

"Yuk, that's disgusting."

"Can I?" Harry asked, holding out a hand.

"With pleasure."

Harry took the drink and sipped it. To his surprise, he liked it. It was bubbly, like champagne, and tasted like a fruity version of what he imagined Firewhiskey to taste like. He took a few sips more, much to Hermione's disapproval.

* * *

A brass band was playing in Harry's head, and he let out a groan. His brain felt like it was full of cotton wool; he could barely remember his name, let alone anything else. Slowly the memories of the wedding came back to him … the last thing he remembered was Ron being dragged off by his mother.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his eyes still closed.

"Harry? Are you awake?" Hermione's voice permeated his consciousness. "Ron, I think he's awake."

"About bloody time too," was the reply.

"Head," Harry mumbled, "Aches …"

"I'm not surprised, you idiot," was Hermione's affectionate but exasperated reply. "How much of that drink did you have, anyway?"

"Huh?"

"It's called a hangover, mate," Ron said. "You got pretty drunk last night." He chuckled, and then said "Ow!" Harry pictured Hermione kicking him.

Harry tried opening his eyes, and winced. "Turn the light off," he grumbled.

"There, Ron," Hermione said. "Are you glad your mum stopped you from drinking that stuff?"

"Depends. Was it worth it, Harry?"

"Dunno," Harry muttered. "I don' really remember what it was like."

"Do you remember last night at all, Harry?" Hermione looked concerned now.

Harry attempted to sit up, but regretted it quickly. "Ouch. Sort of. Bits and pieces."

"Do you remember your toast?" Ron said suddenly, in a suspiciously gleeful tone.

"My what?"

"Your toast, your speech; for the happy couple, remember. It was brilliant."

Harry, not liking Ron's tone, gulped. "What did I say?"

Ron grinned wickedly. "Load of sentimental rubbish. Stuff about how wonderful the lovebirds were, and how honoured you were to be the best man (or at the wedding, for that matter), and how important they were to you."

Harry's face coloured. "I don't really remember it, to be honest. I seem to remember trying to remain standing when my head was spinning like crazy."

"That would be then," Hermione said. "We were all sitting round the table and you were standing for the speech – well, trying to stand. I think you'd had a whole bottle by that point."

"Did I make a complete fool of myself?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. "I wasn't _that_ mushy, was I?"

"I thought your speech was lovely," Hermione said, not exactly answering the question. "Although truthfully it would have been better if you hadn't been so drunk, you were barely discernable through half of it." Harry felt somewhat relieved at that.

"What else did I say?"

"You called Dumbledore and McGonagall morons," Ron said with a grin, "for taking so long to actually get together."

"I _what?_"

"Relax, Harry, they took it well," Hermione assured them. "Dumbledore actually said he agreed with you. And we were all laughing."

Harry groaned. "Never let me drink again. Especially not at a wedding. Double especially not if I have to speak in public."

"We promise," Ron said solemnly, one hand on his heart, humour still twinkling in his eyes.

"Anyway, Harry, you should probably get up," Hermione said. "Mrs Weasley said she wasn't going to bring you up any breakfast because you weren't an invalid and brought this on yourself, so you'll have to come down if you're hungry."

"Right," Harry mumbled.

"Think yourself lucky, mate," Ron said. "The twins had a far worse time of it. Towards the end of the night they sneaked off with Aberforth; Mum found the three of them playing a drinking game at three this morning."

"Aberforth?" Harry said, trying to remember where he'd heard the name before.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's brother. Anyway, they're technically of age but Mum's still furious with them. She might go easy on you as it's your first hangover."

"Let's hope so," Harry mumbled. Mrs Weasley was top of Harry's list of people he hated to get angry. "Why don't you guys go down, I'll join you soon as the world stops spinning."

* * *

On their way downstairs, Ron turned to Hermione. "Why didn't you let me finish telling Harry about his speech?"

"I don't think Harry needs to know exactly how _much_ of an idiot he made of himself," Hermione said firmly. "Dumbledore got rid of the wine stain and no-one's going to bring up the subject with him, so let's leave it at that. He's embarrassed enough as it is."

"Shame. I really wanted to see Harry's face when I told him he cried."

"He was hardly the only one, didn't you see Hagrid?"

"Of course I did, but Hagrid cries all the time, it's not a surprise. Harry _never_ cries. I wish I could have got a photo of that, it would be blackmail for life."

"Ron!"

* * *

Harry made his way downstairs very slowly some time later. The guests were gone, apart from Hagrid who was lying fast asleep on the kitchen floor. Mrs Weasley was stepping round him whenever she crossed the room.

"Ron and Hermione are in the living room," she told Harry. "Are you hungry?"

"Sort of," Harry said, not wanting to admit he actually felt sick.

"Sit down, I'll get you something. What do you want?"

"Just some toast, please, Mrs Weasley. Dry," Harry added.

She made no comment about his health, but after seeing him wincing, directed her wand at the washing up so that it clanged less. Harry mumbled a thank you.

When Mrs Weasley gave him his toast, she also presented him with a potion. "It will help your headache," she said by way of an explanation. "Not that you don't deserve a hangover."

A door shutting loudly overhead jolted Harry's aching head, and he downed the foul-tasting potion in one as the door was followed by footsteps coming down the stairs. Voices sounded in the hallway, and there was the sound of large objects being dropped.

Mrs Weasley opened the kitchen door to see what was going on, and Harry craned his neck curiously.

"Good morning, Molly!" came Albus' cheerful voice. "Is Harry in there?"

"Yes, he is. I see you two are packed and ready; where are you going for your honeymoon then?"

"Paris," was Professor McGonagall's reply.

"Oh, how lovely!" Mrs Weasley sighed.

Albus beckoned Harry into the hall, and he dropped his toast, swallowed his mouthful and followed. "Albus?"

Professor McGonagall gave Harry a brief smile before continuing to search her bag. "Albus, where's your passport?"

"Isn't it in there with yours?"

"No, it isn't."

"Ah." Albus thought for a moment. "_Accio passport!_"

Professor McGonagall gave a groan as Albus' passport came whizzing down the stairs, trailing socks as it went. Albus flicked his wand and sent the socks back upstairs, and held out the passport triumphantly.

"Why do you need passports?" Harry asked curiously. "Aren't you Apparating?"

"Well, yes we are, but it's always advisable to have genuine documents with you in case," Professor McGonagall answered.

"Anyway, Harry," Albus said, beaming. "About last night -"

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I'll never get drunk again, I'm really sorry about the toast -"

Albus chuckled. "While I agree with you on the alcohol part, don't apologise for your speech, it was wonderful. Wasn't it, Mina?"

Professor McGonagall, now thumbing her way through a wad of French Muggle money, looked up and smiled at Harry. "It was lovely, Harry, very moving."

"Really?" Harry said. "Ron and Hermione made it sound like I made a complete idiot of myself."

"A very charming idiot nevertheless," Albus said with a chuckle. "Now, that reminds me, Harry, I have a list for you." He brandished a piece of parchment at him.

"What is it?"

"Stay out of trouble while we're gone, young man," Albus said. While his eyes were twinkling with humour, there was a serious undertone.

"Albus, you know I can't promise that."

"You can promise not to do anything on this list," Albus replied. "That should help."

Harry unfolded the parchment. In Albus' writing was the heading: , _I, Harry James Potter, promise that, during the period of Albus Dumbledore's honeymoon, I will not undertake any of the following._

"Number one," Harry read out. "Drink anything supplied by the Hog's Head or anyone working in it."

"I think I've managed to cover most eventualities," Albus said thoughtfully. "I thought about every scrape you've ever been in and what happened that might avoid the same happening again. Neither Minerva or I will appreciate a disrupted honeymoon, you see."

Harry skim-read the rest of the list. No going anywhere without an of-age Order member. No talking to Professor Snape unless necessary. He raised an eyebrow. Was Albus afraid Harry would lose it and jinx him, subsequently getting himself expelled? No running off to save anyone. This one was in capital letters.

"What happens if someone needs saving and I'm the only one around?" Harry asked.

"In that case, you contact us and then wait here." Seeing the look on Harry's face, Albus sighed. "I know it's against your nature to _not_ run headlong into danger, but it will be infinitely better for everyone involved if you don't, all right?"

"Fine," Harry muttered. "So how do I contact you?"

"Call for Fawkes," Albus replied.

Harry read the rest of the list. Albus checked his watch, pulled out a Self-Inking quill and offered it to Harry.

"Could you sign the bottom, please, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Last piece of parchment I signed, Hermione had jinxed it. What have you done to this one?"

Albus smiled, almost wickedly. "You won't have to find out if you're a good boy."

"Albus!" Minerva sighed. "I think Harry gets the message, can we just go?"

Albus raised his eyebrows at Harry, who groaned. "Fine, I'll sign." He wrote his name at the bottom of the parchment, folded it up and put it in his pocket. "Have a good time."

Professor McGonagall, to his great surprise, pulled him into a hug, and Albus ruffled his hair fondly. "See you in two weeks," Albus said cheerfully. "Ready to go, my dear?"

"I've been ready for the last two minutes," she replied, taking hold of his hand. Albus waved his wand and the luggage disappeared, then opened the front door. Stepping out onto the top step, they turned back to give a last wave before Albus took hold of Professor McGonagall's other hand and they Disapparated together.

* * *

Somehow, Harry was back at Hogwarts. He knew it was Hogwarts only from the view from the window; the room was one he had not entered before. It was richly decorated in deep red and gold, with a thick, cornflower blue carpet, an exquisite grass-green tapestry and dark oak furniture. Along the fireplace was cluttered photos of a small boy, the same one who was standing in the middle of the room, hands over his eyes.

"Cum in!" baby Harry called, removing his hands. "Where?" He toddled around the room, his arms held out in front of him as if blind, and finally bumped into something Harry could not see. "Got a!"

There was a swishing sound, and Albus Dumbledore appeared out of thin air, beaming down at the little boy. "Well done, Harry my boy!" He bent down and lifted the delighted toddler into his arms. "However do you do it?"

"Fund ya!" Harry replied.

"Yes, you found me. Do you want to play something else now?"

Harry was startled by the next word that came out of his young counterpart's mouth. Albus looked shocked for a moment, before comprehension dawned and he chuckled. "I think you mean 'Fawkes', don't you, Harry? Your mother will never forgive me if you go home saying that word. Say 'Fawkes'."

"Fo-oks," Harry tried.

"Better, I suppose. Fawkes?" Albus called, and the phoenix appeared in a flash of light. Baby Harry became very excited, jiggling up and down in Albus' arms and holding his pudgy arms out to the phoenix.

At that moment, something appeared in the air, spinning around and dumping two figures on the floor. The Portkey, which was so small Harry could not tell what it was, fell to the ground, but he was distracted by the appearance of the two men, one of which was drenched in blood.

"Albus!" called James. "We need help here, now. Don't let Harry see -"

Albus put his hand over baby Harry's eyes, flicked his wand and a gold-barred playpen appeared out of thin air. Albus quickly deposited Harry inside and magicked a opaque shield around it to prevent Harry from watching the unfolding scene.

"What on earth happened?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside Sirius and taking a good look at him. Harry's godfather look half-conscious; there was no physical wound Harry could see, but the dark, sticky mess spoke for itself. Albus and James managed to rest Sirius back on the sofa.

"Regulus," James panted. "It got nasty, there was a duel." He looked down at his friend, a horrified expression on his face. "How could Regulus do that to his own – his own brother?"

Albus briefly clasped his shoulder. "I need to you to into the next room, look through the vials, get me everything you can from the third shelf down. What spell did he use?"

"I don't know," James answered, already inside the next room. "How bad is it?"

Albus gently lifted one of Sirius' eyelids then proceeded to run his fingers over Sirius' scalp, searching for the actual wound. It was on the left of his skull, and was already half-closed.

"It will heal," he said finally. "I don't think it was a particularly Dark spell; probably something like a Reducto that just caught him."

James returned, his arms filled with potion vials. "Lucky he wasn't standing another few inches to the left, then, isn't he? Regulus could have blown his brains out." He deposited the vials on the table quickly, his hands now shaking like mad.

Albus didn't speak, instead began treating the wound with one of the potions. Sirius winced, but Harry could see the wound beginning to heal. James sat down suddenly, as if his legs had just given way.

"Regulus is an _arse_," he burst out. "All we ever wanted was to try and save a family member from going down the wrong road, and the bugger is ungrateful enough to do _this_ -_"_

"Daddy," Albus said firmly, "may I remind you that your son is right next to you and can hear every bad word you utter -"

"He's heard far worse from his godfather," James said.

A small voice called from the playpen, "Bug-ga!"

"Tell the puppy to watch his mouth," Sirius said weakly, his eyes still closed. "Or Lily will have our heads."

"_Brrrriiiiiiing!_"

Harry jerked awake, and glared at the alarm clock. He slammed the 'Snooze' button and turned over, but it was too late – he was now wide awake, and the dream had left him.

As he dressed, he wondered about it. Although he couldn't quite remember every detail, he knew it didn't feel like just a random dream about his family – but it couldn't be anything to do with Voldemort, as he had not been there. Perhaps an old memory that had come out of the woodwork? If so, Harry couldn't understand how it could be so vivid after all these years.

Well, if it had been real, Albus would certainly remember. Harry was halfway to Sirius' room before remembering that Albus was in Paris. It would have to wait, then. He doubted that a repressed memory about Sirius being cursed by his brother, while not being on the list he had signed, qualified as important enough to interrupt the couple's honeymoon.

**TBC ...**


	9. A Late Start to Term

**Chapter Nine: A Late Start to Term**

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Albus didn't reply, but squeezed his wife's hand gently in agreement. As far up as they were, the rest of the world was lost, merely a dark blanket far underneath that was flecked with dots of light. The evening wind was whipping their hair; Minerva, who was not used to wearing hers down, kept trying to tuck it behind her ears, but it would not stay put. Albus gently brushed it out of her face, surreptitiously conjured a hairslide and neatly slid it into place. "There you go, my dear."

She touched it gingerly, and smiled. "Thank you, that's better."

"I don't want anything to spoil this night," he murmured, staring into her eyes. In the light of the scarlet sunset, they shone gold. "I can't believe it's the start of term tomorrow."

Minerva smiled, and kissed him, the view from the Eiffel Tower forgotten.

"I've got a present for you," she said, pulling back after a moment.

Albus raised his eyebrows. "A present?"

She drew out something from her pocket that glinted. Albus stared. It was a locket, around the same shape and size of the one he owned, but had an ornate 'A' engraved upon it.

"I noticed you weren't wearing your old one anymore," she said. "You can put the photos in here. And it has four spaces – you can put new photos in as well. A new locket for new memories."

"Mina … I …"

"Shh." She wiped away the single tear that had slipped out, unbeknown to him. No more words needed to be spoken; Albus clasped her hand to his face for a moment, and then, unable to find the words, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

* * *

"Up! Get UP!" Harry was jerked awake by someone rapping sharply on the bedroom door. "Ron, Harry, wake up! You'll miss the train!"

Harry groaned. The same routine, every first of September. Why were they always late?

The last two weeks had passed, fortunately, uneventfully; Harry had lost count of the number of chess games he had lost to Ron, had finished all his homework and undertook some extra reading at Hermione's insistence, and stayed well out of Snape's way. The only time he had seen him was when Snape had cornered him and said, grudgingly, that he would be allowed to undertake Potions the next term. He had declined to give a reason, and Harry, remembering the contract he had signed and not wanting to find out what punishment Albus had cooked up for him, had decided not to push it.

There was no sign of the happy couple that morning; Harry assumed they must have gone straight to Hogwarts. He and the Weasleys caught the Hogwarts Express with a minute to spare, and found a compartment with only Neville and Luna in.

"Hiya," Neville said, beaming at them. "Good holiday?"

"It was interesting," Harry replied truthfully. "What about you?"

"Bit quiet. Gran was over the moon when my OWL results came through, though." It was obvious Neville was finding it hard not to tell everyone he ran into. "I got Outstanding in Herbology! Outstanding with _Honours_!"

"Wow, Neville, that's brilliant!" said Hermione. "Well done!"

"I got O in Defence as well," Neville continued excitedly. "I think all the DA did well; Luna got O as well, and I heard Dean and Seamus talking outside a minute ago, they both got Os too."

"Blame our teacher," Ron said cheerfully, clapping a reddening Harry on the back. "You wait till this year, he'll be teaching us all sorts of stuff."

"Are we continuing Dumbledore's Army then?" Luna asked, speaking up for the first time.

Harry nodded. "You can't be over-prepared. We might be bigger this year, too; it's to be made an official school society so anyone can join."

"What about the Slytherins?" Neville asked with a frown.

"I think anyone should have a chance to learn how to defend themselves against Voldemort," Hermione said. "Not everyone in Slytherin's a megalomaniac or a Death Eater in training. Those that are probably won't want to come; if they cause any trouble, we can just talk to Dumbledore and he'll sort it out."

"I like oranges," Luna said unexpectedly. They all looked at her. She smiled back, apparently unaware that they, as usual, didn't have a clue what she was talking about. Harry had long given up trying to work out what went on in her head.

"Me too," Harry said, humouring her. "They might have some for pudding."

"I hope so."

As Luna turned to look at the window, Ron mouthed at Harry, 'oranges'? Harry just shrugged.

Ginny, who up until this point had not spoken, stood up, drawing all of their eyes to her. "Harry, do you want to play Exploding Snap?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry said. "Er … what did you stand up for?"

"Oh – er – I don't know." Ginny sat back down and drew out the cards, now avoiding Harry's eye.

Harry shook his head. _Women.

* * *

_

One of the first things that Harry noticed upon entering the Great Hall was that Albus and Professor McGonagall were both missing. While Professor McGonagall was usually not up at the staff table at the beginning of the feast, it being her job to usher the first-years in, Albus' lack of presence was unexplained.

"Look who's missing," he murmured to Ron and Hermione, who both searched the table.

"Maybe they got held up," Hermione said.

"Or," Ron said, "maybe France is a day behind us and no-one's realised, and they'll turn up tomorrow thinking it's the first."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald."

"What are you guys arguing about?" Neville asked curiously. "Who's in France?"

They all looked at each other. Ron shrugged. "Gonna be known at some point," he said.

"Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall got married two weeks ago," Hermione told Neville. "They're honeymooning in Paris."

Neville's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding me. They just got married?"

"Yep," Ron said. "We can vouch for it, we were at the wedding. Wait till the photos come out."

"How come you three were there?"

"Harry was best man," Ron chortled, clapping Harry on the back. "You know, Harry, I reckon Malfoy'll have a fair bit to say about that and the old favouritism line. Have some witty retorts ready."

"Wow," Neville whispered, his mouth still hanging open. Before any of them could spread the story further, the doors opened and the first-years entered led, not by Professor McGonagall, but by Flitwick.

"Knew it," Harry said. "They're both late. First time for everything, I suppose."

They first-years waited at the top of the hall while the Hat sung its song, and Flitwick was about to call the first name when a commotion in the hall made everyone turn their heads. A moment later, the huge doors flew open again, revealing the late couple.

"About time too," Ron said.

"Apologies for our delayed arrival," Albus said as the two of them hurried towards the top table. "There was an incident involving lost property."

Professor McGonagall, whom Harry now noticed was still dressed in her summer dress and hair her hair in a long plait rather than in a bun, graciously took the Hat from Fitwick while Albus settled into the Headmaster's chair. There were whispers echoing throughout the hall and Harry wondered whether they would make an announcement. In the end, they didn't need to: Neville, in a rare burst of public confidence, stood up and called to the table, "Congratulations, Professors!"

He went bright red as he did so and the whole hall looked completely baffled, but Albus and Professor McGonagall both laughed. "Why, thank you very much, Mr. Longbottom," Professor McGonagall said. "If we could not proceed to the Sorting?"

Neville mumbled something incomprehensible and sat back down. Ron clapped him on the back.

"Nice one, mate!"

"What was that about?" people were calling down the Gryffindor table towards them. "Congratulations for what?"

Harry held up his hand clearly, and pointed to his ring finger, then at Albus and Professor McGonagall in turn. Gryffindors turned their heads around to the Sorting to see, and upon spotting the wedding bands, gasped, and a few people cheered. Harry could have sworn he heard someone say loudly, "About time too!" He felt sorry for the first-years; hardly anyone was paying attention to the Sorting.

* * *

"Ah, there you are," was Albus' first reaction when Harry entered his office the next afternoon. "There seems to be a rumour going round the school today that Minerva and I eloped to Africa over the summer and were attacked by an Erumpment. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, by any chance?"

"The Erumptment thing's new to me," Harry said. "The rest was buzzing round the tables this morning. You didn't seriously think you could keep a secret like this from the Hogwarts students, did you Albus?"

"You didn't invent the Africa story?"

"Of course not, the Gryffindor third-years can invent stories better than Rita Skeeter. Why bother to try and help them? I only told the truth."

"I'm glad to hear it. So, did you manage to keep out of trouble while we were away?"

Harry grinned. "I was good as gold. Ask any of the Order."

Albus gave him a searching look. "Did you eat well?"

"Three square meals a day."

"Harry!"

"I did; Mrs Weasley can vouch for it, as she was the one forcing them on me. Anyway, it's my turn. How was the honeymoon?"

Albus positively beamed. "Wonderful, thank you, Harry."

"And you were late to the Feast because …?"

"I lost my keys."

Harry stared at him.

"They turned out to be caught in an odd sock. How they got there I'll never know …"

"Do you lose things a lot?"

"Certainly not. I just find they're not always where I think they are."

Harry chuckled.

"I think it's time we started the lesson, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry replied. He had temporarily forgotten that this was supposed to be his Defence Against the Dark Arts class. "So, do I have to go back to calling you Professor Dumbledore now?"

Albus seemed to consider. "Well, this is supposed to be a formal lesson, but as nobody else is around I shan't insist on it. It's up to you, Harry."

"Right." Harry looked around the room, and his heart sank as he noticed a desk and chair out ready for him. "I take it this isn't a practical class today?"

"It will be, but there's some theory that needs to be gone over first. Take a seat," Albus said, now drawing out some notes. As Harry sat down and pulled out parchment and ink, he seemed to have a thought. "Ah, Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Have you made a decision about your Occlumency? That is, who you would like to learn with?"

"Oh," Harry said, remembering. "Yeah. Ginny Weasley."

Albus looked only mildly surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I've already spoken to her about it, and she's agreed."

"Are you certain she understands what you're asking of her?"

"I think so, but maybe you could have a word with her as well, sir?"

Albus nodded. "Yes, I shall."

As Harry took notes, he found his mind wandering back to Ginny and the Occlumency. He couldn't quite explain, even to himself, why he had chosen her, rather than someone else. It had just seemed to make sense to some part of his brain. While he did not fancy anybody, ever, seeing every part of his life, imagining Ginny watching it like a film was less terrifying than anyone else he could think of. He wasn't entirely sure he was happy about looking into any other person's mind entirely, either, but Ginny had said that most of her most embarrassing moments had been in his presence. They had already come to an agreement that, if possible, they would try and stay away from more private memories.

"… And the dish ran away with the spoon."

Harry had continued writing automatically for several moments before realising what Albus had said, and looked up. "What?"

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Knut for your thoughts, Harry?"

"What's with the nursery rhyme?" Underneath the spell notes, Harry had written _Diddle, cat had fiddle, cow jumped over moon, dog laughed, dish ran off with spoon_. He scrawled it out.

"Merely checking you were paying attention."

"I was taking notes."

"Yes, I saw that, but you were also a million miles away." Albus leaned against his desk and fixed Harry with a sharp expression Harry was all-too familiar with. "Did you not sleep last night?"

"Not much." As he answered, it occurred to Harry that Albus looked a lot better than he had two weeks ago. "Perhaps I should get married too; it seems to have done you the world of good."

* * *

Harry gritted his teeth and tried again. "_Corpus vultus alacritas!_"

The water in the basin gave a little shudder, and he narrowed his eyes on it, willing it to move with all his might. The middle splashed upwards, and hovered for a moment, before falling back into its natural place.

"I think that will do for today, Harry," Albus said, putting a hand on his arm before he could try again. "It's not an easy spell to learn."

"You can say that again," Harry muttered, wiping sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "I think I had less trouble with the Patronus, and that was with a Boggart-Dementor."

"Well, the two spells are of a similar difficulty standard – _very_ advanced magic," Albus said, emptying the basin of water with a flick of his wand. "Not usually taught at Hogwarts; most wizards learn Patronuses and so forth in the years beyond school."

"So, is the 'and so forth' of that sentence going to be what you're teaching me?" Harry asked.

"Partly. You still need to learn the NEWT level Defence as well, of course; it would be foolish to teach you post-school magic and not the magic you are strictly speaking supposed to be learning now."

Harry nodded, he could see the sense in this.

"You will probably have noticed on your timetable, you have extra slots for Defence on it?"

"Yeah, I was going to ask you about that."

"Well, two are for our Occlumency lessons." Harry nodded. "They're the ones outside normal class hours. The third I thought would be beneficial in helping to cover all we have to cover – you are, after all, learning a lot more than your classmates are in their lessons."

"And, our lessons," Harry asked, "is that going to include delving into memories of people who knew Tom Riddle?"

Albus beamed at him. "Of course. The next memory will be at the beginning of tomorrow's class."

Harry, noticing that the lesson was over, took that as his cue to gather up his things, but Albus stopped him. "One last thing, Harry."

"Yes?"

Albus rummaged in a desk drawer and took out a small box. Intrigued, Harry drew nearer, and was almost disappointed when he saw all it contained were two, very ordinary-looking wristbands.

"I hope you're not too picky when it comes to fashion, Harry, because we can't change the colours," Albus said with a chuckle. "Would you like one on each arm, or both on one?"

Harry stared. "What are they for?"

"These are the emergency Portkeys that Nymphadora has been working on," Albus replied. "I'll be magically fastening them on so you can't lose them, so you won't be able to change your mind once they're on."

"Um …" Harry thought. "One on each, I think. Er, the black one on the right, it'll be less noticeable. Where are they Portkeys to?"

"The red one," Albus said, tying it around his left wrist, "will bring you here, to this office. And the black one," he paused to flick his wand, and Harry felt the wristband tighten securely, "will take you to Grimmauld Place. They're password-activated, but can only be done so by your voice or mine, so nobody can send you off anywhere by accident."

"Why, what's the password?"

"I changed it to something I thought only you or I might ever guess," Albus said with a twinkle. "Raspberry jam."

Harry sniggered.

"Once the password has been said, you have to state either destination within five seconds, otherwise they won't activate. Prevents accidental activation."

"So as long as I'm not asking your favourite flavour of jam, and where we're going, in the same five seconds, I'm all right," Harry said with a grin.

"Correct."

"These are for emergencies, then?"

"Yes. You're forbidden from using them simply to get to your Defence class from the Great Hall," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. Harry sighed dramatically, as if he was thoroughly disappointed.

"Actually, speaking of emergencies, there was something -" Albus cut himself off, looking down at his watch. "No, better not, you're already running late for your next class. We'll discuss it next time."

As Harry was dismissed, he had a feeling that there was something he had been meaning to talk to Albus about, but in all the excitement of the start of term, he had completely forgotten what it was. It obviously couldn't have been that important.

**TBC …**


	10. Why Me

**Chapter Ten: Why Me?**

While Ron and Hermione were obviously eager to hear all about Harry's Defence lesson, he was reluctant to try and hold a conversation with them in his next class, which was Transfiguration. It being the first day of term, and the fact that Harry had essentially played Cupid for her and Albus not that long ago, had not stopped Professor McGonagall from taking five points off of Gryffindor for lateness.

For a moment he had considered telling her that it was his Defence teacher's fault (which it had been), but decided not to. While Albus had not banned Harry from telling people he was being taught by him this year, he wasn't sure whether it was supposed to be kept quiet or not.

Professor McGonagall was back in her usual bun and robes today, the only outward sign of the change in her life over the summer being the gold band and diamond on her ring finger. However, Harry could not help noticing a certain lightness in her voice, the way she moved, and the general mood of the class.

It was the last class of the day, and there was a general sigh as the students all packed away their things. The first day back always seemed far too long after a summer of no classes.

"I'll catch you guys up," Harry muttered to his impatient friends, and hung back. Professor McGonagall fixed him with a quizzical stare as the last students filed out, some murmuring "Congratulations, Professor" to her as they passed her desk.

"Questions about the work already, Mr Potter?"

He chuckled. "No, Professor."

"Well then, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to thank you, Professor." She raised an eyebrow, and he continued, "I didn't really get a chance over the summer, but last year with Umbridge – you were brilliant. I realised I never actually thanked you for it."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "That's very kind of you. I should be thanking you, really, for this summer – I'm sure Albus has done already."

Harry felt himself go red. "It was nothing, Professor, really. If I'd realised that was all it took I'd have done it years ago."

"I very much wish you had," she chuckled. "But the important thing is you did, and we're both extremely grateful."

"Perhaps I should rethink my career options," Harry said thoughtfully. "I obviously make a very good Cupid."

"I shall be sure to update your notes," Professor McGonagall said. "More seriously, have you given more thought to becoming an Auror?"

Harry hesitated. "I'm not sure. I mean, I got into Potions NEWT, goodness knows how, but I dunno if I've really explored all my options properly."

She nodded. "It is a good idea to think everything through. Who knows, you might find you take a liking to one of your new classes. Which ones are you taking?"

"Time Studies and Healing," Harry replied.

"Any particular reason why?"

"Well, considering the amount of times I've been in the Hospital Wing, I thought being able to heal would be a very useful skill," Harry said.

"You have an excellent point there. Poppy has mentioned once or twice that you are one of her more regular visitors."

Harry grinned.

"And why Time?"

"I … don't really know." Harry had spent a while trying to choose between Time and Ancient Magic, but neither seemed to be something essential for any career he thought he fancied. In the end, his mind had wandered to the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries, and he had found himself suddenly curious about the subject. "Just thought it sounded interesting, that's all."

"Hmm." There was a pause. "Have you had your first lesson yet?"

"No; it's tomorrow morning."

"Well, be sure to let me know how it goes."

Harry nodded, taking this as his cue to leave. "OK. See you, Professor."

"Harry, wait."

He stopped, and turned back round, not missing the sudden use of his first name. "Yes, Professor?"

"It's Minerva. Outside class only, though, if you please."

Harry was taken slightly off-guard. "Oh … okay."

"And absolutely no nicknames," she added.

"I wouldn't dream of it, P – Minerva," Harry replied solemnly, the name sounding strange in his mouth.

"That's what your father said," she replied with a wry smile. "He and his friends earned themselves plenty of detentions for shouting out 'Minnie' in class."

Harry grinned, a rush of warmth for his Professor. "Bloody hell, they were brave."

"I believe 'suicidal' was the term used by the other students," Professor McGonagall informed him.

Harry could clearly paint in her irritated face, and the awed faces of the other students. "Yeah, that too. What vile punishments did you cook up for them?"

"Oh, it was awful," she said, apparently relishing the imparting of the tale. "I would summon them to my office and force them to drink tea while we talked about Transfiguration."

Harry gaped. "You didn't!"

"I did."

"That's not like your usual detentions."

"Sadly, calling a Professor nicknames is not specifically against the school rules, so my authority could do no more. Of course, there is the rule about respect, but as I had already made the mistake of asking them to call me by my first name, Albus said to punish for nicknames would be rather invalid."

Harry could see this argument. "Can I ask a question?"

"You may."

"Why exactly did you ask them to call you by your first name in the first place? Wasn't that rather brave of you?" he added with a grin.

"I am the Head of Gryffindor."

_You certainly are_, Harry thought.

"As it happens, I am not usually one to show favouritism in any sense; however in the case of the Marauders, the fact that they had always, and continued to have, regular, far less pleasant detentions from me several times a week I thought was sufficient to dispel any accusations that I favoured them in any other sense."

"That doesn't mean you're going to start giving me lots of detentions, is it?" Harry asked with horror.

"No, it does not."

Harry frowned slightly, a thought occurring to him. "Prof – I mean, Minerva …"

"Yes?"

"If the only reason you asked my dad and his friends was because of the counter-action thing with the detentions, why are you asking me? I mean – why me?"

The question had not formed consciously in Harry's mind, but as it came out he realised that the answer carried more importance than any he had yet heard. For some reason, he felt as if he was clinging to a certain answer, willing there to be a tangible reason rather than just the plain fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived.

The question, unfortunately, seemed to have stunned Professor McGonagall; she hesitated, her mouth slightly open, as if searching for words, and something inside Harry plummeted. He could not explain, even to himself, why he needed an answer, or even what answer he had been hoping for.

"I suppose," he said, to be kind to her, "it'll be easier if I'm already on first-name terms with Albus, won't it? And it'll make being at Grimmauld Place feel less like school."

"Er, yes, I suppose so," Professor McGonagall replied in a rush. "Yes, quite."

Harry nodded, and turned to leave, a frustrating prickling in his eyes.

"Harry?" she said tentatively, laying a hand on his arm.

"Yes?" he said, paused but still facing away from her.

"You do know you're important to us, don't you?" she said, very carefully. "Albus and I. We care a great deal about you."

Harry felt a lump in his throat and forced out "I know," before rushing out of the room, shutting the door sharply behind him.

Once outside, he leaned against the cool stone wall, trying to get a grip on himself. He had no idea why he had asked what he had asked, or why the answers mattered so much to him. It was stupid, he told himself.

But as he made his way slowly to the common room, a nasty little voice spoke inside of him. _They only care because you're the prophesised one. If you had never got that scar, they wouldn't know you existed._

"Shut up," Harry muttered, so venomously a passing second-year yelped in surprise and ran for it. Somehow that one, single conversation with his Head of House had made him feel more insecure than months of being tortured by the Ministry of Magic. She meant well, he knew, as did Albus, but her words had unsettled him and now his emotions were in the worst state they had been in since the funeral.

The thought of Sirius made him stop in his tracks. Hermione had tentatively pointed out that losing someone made you more sensitive. Maybe he was just over-reacting at something completely illogical.

"Harry, there you are! – Are you okay?"

Ron's words jerked Harry out of his thoughts; somehow he had reached the common room on automatic.

"Yeah, fine," he said shortly.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked worriedly. "When you say you're fine, it usually means you're not."

Curse Hermione and her intuitiveness.

"We were wondering where you'd got to, mate," Ron said, trying to be cheerful. "Are you going to tell us all about this morning then?"

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"This morning. Your first Defence lesson. You remember?"

"Oh, right." Harry's morning lesson now seemed weeks ago. "Maybe later, guys, I'm a bit tired."

"All right." Hermione chewed her lip. "We're down here if you want to talk about anything, okay?"

Harry thanked her quietly and made his way upstairs. Now he was in peace and quiet, his thoughts came back to plague him. What-ifs were running through his mind: what if he hadn't been the prophesised one? He wouldn't have this relationship with Albus, and now it seemed Professor McGonagall too; he would just have been another pupil to them. Once Sirius had died, he would not have had anyone; he would have been on his own. If his parents had survived, of course, then everything would be different – he wouldn't have needed anything more, he wouldn't have needed … whatever it was that you could call Albus. He wasn't just Harry's Headmaster any more; 'mentor' did not cover it all, they weren't family, and 'friend' didn't seem to quite fit either.

For some reason this bothered Harry even more. How was a relationship supposed to work when you didn't know what category it fell into? If his scar was the reason Albus cared about him, how could there be anything beyond that between them? Harry kicked his trunk in anger, unable to vent any other way. Deep down he knew this was all completely absurd, but he couldn't get rid of the thoughts.

_Where is this all coming from?_ he demanded, now fuming at himself. He couldn't put his finger on the answer.

His mind turned back to Professor McGonagall, and, remembering something, searched his trunk for his old photograph album. His hands shook as he turned pages, searching; it didn't take him long to find it.

When he had first seen the photograph, he had recognised the setting instantly, but had not thought anything of it; Sirius and James were standing with their arms around each other, in Professor McGonagall's office, both grinning wildly, and Sirius was still holding a teacup. Professor McGonagall was not in the photo, but presumably, someone had held the camera.

Harry dropped the album onto his bed, the tears prickling again. If this 'detention' ritual had been such a big thing to them all, why had she not thought to mention it before? Had it not occurred to her that Harry would have liked to have heard about it?

_If Hermione was here_, Harry told himself, _she would tell you you're being ridiculous and to calm down._ He took a few deep breaths, and snapped the album shut. He wasn't going to find answers by looking at painful reminders of the family he had lost.

As he replaced it, he dislodged something that he did not remember packing. A bottle of purple potion slipped into view, and Harry picked it up. The label read, _Sleeping draught – please take it if you need it, Harry. Hermione will be checking up on you for me and I will be writing to Poppy Pomfrey if she tells me you're being stubborn. –Molly_.

On reading this, the tears finally spilled from Harry's eyes and he wiped them with his sleeve fiercely, frustrated and grateful at the same time. Not even bothering to undress, and ignoring that fact that it was not even dinner time yet, Harry slid into bed and downed the potion.

* * *

As he had hoped, Harry awoke feeling rather more positive, and told himself that yesterday had just been one of those days. He groaned upon seeing the time, but now he was awake it was impossible to go back to sleep.

He donned the Invisibility Cloak and ventured out of the tower, heading for the Room of Requirement. Why he had headed there, he didn't know, but when he arrived he found it occupied.

"Luna?" he asked, pulling off his Cloak. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I might ask the same of you," she replied, apparently not having been startled by his sudden appearance at all.

"Just woke up early." Harry looked around. The room was full of bronze-coloured furniture, and draped in silk in various shades of blue. Harry guessed this was what the Ravenclaw common room must look like. "Nice."

"I'm working on some posters for Dumbledore's Army," Luna said, pointing down at the table in the centre of the room. "I would be working in my common room but a couple of first-years let off some Dungbombs and it doesn't smell particularly nice."

"Can I see?" Harry looked down at the posters; the words _Dumbledore's Army_ were in brightly coloured, bold letters, and underneath was a drawing of a figure of Harry, wand poised in a defensive position.

"Do you like them?" Luna asked.

Harry wasn't sure he liked the picture of himself, as accurately as it had been drawn, but not wanting to hurt her feelings he said, "Yes, I do. But, Luna, there are no meeting details on it."

She tapped the poster with her wand, and the headline and image dissolved and text spread out over the page, stating the objective of the association and the time and place of the first meeting, and a bold header _Dumbledore's Army_ graced the top.

"Once they're all finished, they'll change back and forth," Luna said. "Would you like to help me with the rest?"

Harry agreed, and joined her. They worked in silence, Harry copying out the headline and the text and Luna adding the picture and the charms. Harry was not wearing his watch and had no idea of the time, when somebody cleared their throat loudly behind them.

He jumped, but Luna did not – he suspected she had some kind of antennae that detected people creeping up on her. "Albus, what are you doing here?"

Albus' eyes were twinkling. "Looking for you. Miss Lovegood, do you object if I tear your assistant away for a few minutes?"

"Not at all, Headmaster," Luna replied. "He keeps colouring outside the lines."

Harry left Luna re-writing the headline and joined Albus. "Is everything okay?"

"I came to ask you that," Albus replied in a quiet voice. "Minerva said she thought something upset you yesterday."

"Oh," Harry said. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Albus pressed. His eyes were gazing into Harry's and Harry was suddenly aware of a prickling sensation in his head.

"Albus, stop poking into my mind!" he exclaimed.

Albus raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed you managed to detect it."

"Well I can, so stop it."

"Harry, tell me what's on your mind."

"I just over-reacted a bit yesterday, I think. It's nothing."

"What happened?"

"I'd rather not -"

"Harry, if we don't know what happened then how can we prevent it from happening again?"

He sighed. "Fine. I was just … thinking …" He struggled to put it into words. "She asked me to call her by her first name."

Albus frowned, confused. "And that's a bad thing?"

"It just made me wonder – why." Harry paused. "I mean, why her or you. "If I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, I'd just be any other student to you -"

"Stop right there," Albus said gently, taking a grip on Harry's shoulders. "Harry, look at me."

Harry swallowed and forced himself to meet Albus' eyes.

"Minerva and I we both – care about you very much," Albus said. "You have to believe that, Harry. And it's not because you survived the killing curse, not because of your scar, and certainly not because of the prophesy. We care about the kind, brave boy who was unfortunate enough to be landed with all of the above, and whom we wish desperately could have a better life."

Harry found himself lost for words, but still didn't feel entirely convinced. This must have shown in his face, for Albus continued, "The Harry I care about came into my life as a sweet, if very mischievous, baby boy whose parents wanted me to babysit." Harry's eyebrows rose. "And no matter how old he gets or how many feats he accomplishes since, to me he will always be the boy who played hide-and-seek in my beard and called me Abbus." Albus smiled. "You couldn't say 'L' at that point."

Very gently, as if afraid Harry would be scared off if he moved too fast, Albus leaned forward and kissed Harry on the top of his head. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, afraid the tears would come again.

"I know we've had difficulties, Harry," Albus murmured, "and I know we can't mend everything overnight. but if I'm going to put things right, you need to help me if there's something on your mind, all right?"

"Yes." it came out as a croak; Harry wasn't sure he could manage any more than that.

**TBC …**


	11. Things That Don't Match

**Chapter Eleven: Things That Don't Match**

Albus sighed, watching the way the light danced on the surface of the onyx ring, glinting off the Gaunt coat of arms. On the night he had gone to retrieve it, it had in the end been Severus who had snatched it from its plinth after Voldemort's protections had incapacitated Albus himself, almost to the point of death. If the curse had fired off slightly more to the left, it most definitely would have taken his life. As it was, all the close shave had left him with was a shrivelled hand and a worthless trophy.

The ring itself was probably worth a lot of Galleons, but that was not what Albus had been after – besides the fact that he had enough of his own wealth to last several lifetimes, he had expected, once he had discovered Voldemort's hidey-hole under Riddle Manor, to return with a Horcrux. But the ring was empty of any piece of soul, Voldemort's or otherwise.

A fake Horcrux. Albus wasn't sure what that meant. Voldemort would not have gone to all the trouble of protecting the ring on its own – that had to mean, surely, that there had been a Horcrux there originally. So had the ring once been a Horcrux, and somehow at some point the soul piece had been removed? Unlikely. Had someone else, with the same mind as him, found a real Horcrux first and replaced it with the ring? In which case – was the real one the Gaunt ring, and this an imitation? Or had Voldemort never used the Gaunt ring, and the Horcrux itself was something else? More importantly, who had taken the real Horcrux, and was it destroyed?

Whatever the answer, it was back to square one – only one Horcrux gone, and five to go. Albus had hoped he would be able to get rid of as many as possible himself, to take as much burden off Harry's shoulders as possible, but it surely would not be so long before Voldemort made some kind of attempt on Albus' life.

_Voldemort spent eleven years trying to kill you in the last war_, Albus reminded himself. _Twelve blackmailed Aurors, three Imperiosed students, five tortured house-elves, seven personal confrontations and an exploding owl. He failed on every occasion. _

But rather than being pessimistic, he was being careful. Harry needed to be prepared to complete the mission if he did end up alone.

Harry didn't know the ring was a fake yet. Albus had only just discovered it himself – Severus had explored it magically whilst he was in France, and had shamefacedly admitted to Albus the day before that he didn't think the ring was a Horcrux after all.

Well, that had certainly determined the agenda for their next Defence class.

* * *

"Class dismissed."

Harry quickly finished scribbling the last of his notes as Professor Bulla turned to wipe the blackboard. Beside him, Ron was already packing away his books and parchment.

"I thought that was really interesting, don't you?" Hermione gushed as they left the classroom.

Harry's head was still whirling a bit. Albus had been right when he had said Time Studies involved a lot of theory. In the first lesson, Bulla had taken them through the basics of theories developed by three different Temguists, and would be detailing them more thoroughly in the next few classes. Harry thought it took a lot of words to say whether or not wizards thought history could actually be changed.

He was cheered up by the change of subject, neatly raised by Ron as Hermione paused for breath. "Are you going to tell us about your lesson yesterday?"

Harry detailed his first Defence class. Ron seemed slightly deflated that Harry hadn't mastered new spells to teach them already, but Hermione was impressed when Harry told her about the Corporeal Manipulation spell.

"Wow, I can't believe you got that far with it already," she said. "It's supposed to be impossible to perform on the first try."

"I tried about fifty times, Hermione, it only did something the last two or three."

"What exactly is a Cor … thingy?" Ron asked.

"A spell to manipulate the environment," Hermione answered. "Like water, though it can be used on other things."

"How's that defensive magic?"

"Voldemort used it when duelling Albus in the Ministry," Harry pointed out. "He—Albus—said it's useful to be able to call on."

* * *

Silence fell for a few moments after Albus finished relating Morfin's tale. He was now staring, seemingly absent-mindedly, at the ceiling, while Harry mulled the memory over.

"So, Voldemort took the ring?" Harry said at last, lost for anything more to say that had not been said.

"He did indeed," Albus replied.

"Do you know what happened to it?"

To his great surprise, Albus drew the very same ring from out of his pocket and passed it wordlessly to Harry. His mouth fell open as he turned the cold ring over in his hands, the light from the nearest candle dancing on the onyx surface.

"It was hidden beneath the Manor belonging to Riddle Senior and his parents," Albus said. "I discovered it there this summer. It was very heavily protected."

"You mean -" Harry stared at it. "This is one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

"Alas, no." Harry blinked, and Albus sighed. "I thought it was – but Professor Snape and I have been over it very thoroughly, there is no piece of soul in there – Voldemort's or otherwise."

"You mean, he never got around to using it?"

"I don't know. It could be that somebody else got to the Horcrux first, and left us a fake in its place."

"Who?"

"Again, we can only conjecture. There were no clues there as to whom may have visited before I."

"But – if we don't know who, we don't know that the real one is actually destroyed."

"Exactly."

"So back to square one," Harry muttered. "Six Horcruxes to find."

"Five," Albus corrected. "You already destroyed the diary, remember."

"Oh yeah." The thought did not lift his spirits much. There was still one more to go than he had believed when Albus had first told him about them.

"You want this back?" Harry held the ring out flat on his palm.

Albus took it. "I may as well continue to examine it, see if it has any hidden properties – but I don't expect it is any more than just an old heirloom."

The lesson seemed to be over. Harry took that as his cue to ask. "Last lesson, you said you had something to tell me or something, something to do with emergencies?"

"Oh yes, so I did," Albus replied in a slightly more cheerful voice. "Perhaps after your lesson tonight."

* * *

"Any particular reason why you're staring at my sister?"

Harry jerked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Ron standing over him with an eyebrow raised.

"No," Harry answered. "Um."

"It's just, you wouldn't want to give any one of her six older brothers the idea that you fancied her. Being the famous Harry Potter wouldn't help you out of that one."

"No, no, that's not it," Harry said.

"Not to mention on the end of Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex."

"Definitely not," Harry said firmly. "No, I was just thinking, and … Ginny happened to be in the way of my gaze."

"Oh?" Ron dropped onto the chair next to him. "Thinking 'bout what?"

"Remedial – er – Defence," Harry said in a low voice, hesitating slightly.

"Huh?"

"Like remedial Potions, but taught by someone else?" Harry nudged him.

"Oh, yeah. Right. You're having your first one tonight, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we are."

"We?"

"Me and your sister."

Ron frowned, and Harry realised he had neglected to mention his choice of Occlumency partner in front of him too late. "What do you mean, my sister? Why's Ginny need Occ – I mean, remedial Defence?"

"Keep your voice down, Ron."

"Question still stands," he hissed.

"It's a bit different to what I did last year," Harry replied. "Needs a third person, and I asked Ginny if she'd mind."

Ron raised both eyebrows this time. "Why her?"

"Not a clue," Harry replied honestly. "But she said she was happy to do it, so don't get into one of your protective-big-brother moods, okay?"

"What exactly does she have to do?" Ron asked.

There was no answering this question in code, so Harry leaned in and whispered, "We both learn Legilimency and Occlumency by practising on each other. That way Albus doesn't have to risk breaking into my mind himself."

"And she's okay with you poking your nose into her head, is she?"

"Ask her if you like," Harry replied.

"Hmph," was Ron's response. "So, are you looking forward to it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry murmured. "Just thinking about – well, secrets."

"What do you mean, secrets?"

"Well, we agreed to try not to poke into anything too private, but … well … I'm wondering if there's certain things I should tell her before it gets to that point."

"You mean, like the you-know-whats?"

"I'm thinking just the one you-know-what, actually." At Ron's blank look, Harry added, "beginning with P?"

"Oh, right – that one." There was a pause. "I reckon you should. It won't be pretty if you let her find out by accident."

"That's what I was thinking," Harry said, his eye back on the redhead in the corner. Ginny was chatting animatedly with friends, looking as if she was not even thinking of the night's Occlumency lesson.

The next thing Harry knew, Ron had seized him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to his feet, digging him in the back with his elbow. "Well, go on then. You don't want to face the Weasley wrath."

Harry stumbled forwards, paused, took a deep breath and approached Ginny. When he was a couple of feet away, she turned her head and spotted him. There was no surprise on her face.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Hi," she replied, much less awkwardly. "Can I talk to you a moment?"

Relieved that she had been the one to ask, Harry ignored her friends' giggles and followed Ginny out of the portrait hole and into an empty room.

"I was going to come and find you about tonight," she began, sitting on a desk.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"No, I just thought we should have another talk before the lesson," she replied. "As do you, apparently."

"Uh, yeah," Harry said. "I've got something you should know before we start."

"So have I," Ginny said.

"You'd better go first."

"I'm not sure I should …"

"Well, one of us has got to, and I have a feeling that after I've told you what I've got to say, you won't be able to think of anything else for a while," Harry said. "Just, go on."

"Fine." Ginny took a deep breath. "I'm – I'm ill."

For a moment Harry thought he had misheard. "What?"

"Mum took me to see a Healer in the summer while the rest of you were at Diagon Alley," Ginny continued, as if trying to get everything out in one go. "They don't – don't know how serious it is yet. Madam Pomfrey knows, I'm going for more tests next week."

Harry was completely lost for words. Now she'd said it, he suddenly realised how pale Ginny looked – she had done her best to cover it with make-up, but he knew she didn't normally wear it; why he hadn't noticed before, he couldn't work out.

"What -" he began, but couldn't seem to form a sentence.

"At first I just thought I was mildly allergic to something, but then I realised the symptoms didn't match up," Ginny said. "Apparently there's a number of conditions, magical and otherwise, that could fit, so they have to rule them out one by one."

"Gin … I …"

"Had no idea?" she finished.

"I didn't – think – ever – expect -"

"You thought I couldn't have anything to say of this magnitude?"

"No! – I just – it's not the sort of thing that just springs to mind -"

Ginny seemed to slump. "I'm sorry. I've found I'm snapping a bit lately. I should probably just go, get some rest before tonight's lesson."

"But – we – I -"

"I'm tired, Harry, okay? I want to go and lie down before we start ravaging each other's' minds." She slid off the desk and started towards the door.

"It's about the prophecy!" Harry burst out. Still in shock over what Ginny had told him, all he could consciously do was cling onto the reason for starting the whole conversation. It worked. Ginny stopped dead, and slowly turned away.

"It smashed," she whispered.

"I heard it from Dumbledore," Harry replied.

Ginny blinked. "Tell me."

Harry recited it, watching her face. It paled even more under the blusher.

"It means -" he began.

"I get it," she whispered.

A long silence stretched, and finally Ginny almost ran back and flung her arms around him. Harry clutched her to him, his mind whirling.

"It doesn't mean we're both dead," Ginny said with a small choked laugh.

"I know," Harry managed to get out. They slowly pulled away. Ginny had silent tears pouring down her face, and after a moment Harry realised he did as well. She gave a weak smile as he attempted to wipe them away.

"I think we both need a bit of time to think," she said quietly. "And I'm tired, so … I'll go."

"Is that normal tired, or …?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"It's mainly first-week-of-term-tired with only a sprinkling of under-the-weather-tired," she replied with a small smile. "Nothing to worry about."

"I _am_ going to worry now," Harry said. "I can't believe Ron's taking any notice of anyone, I know what he's like when he -"

He broke off. Ginny had dropped her eyes.

"Ron doesn't _know_?"

She shook her head. "Only Mum and Dad. We didn't want to worry them till we knew what was going on."

Harry couldn't believe his ears.

"Look, I know they _should_ know, but the thing is everyone's so anxious at the moment worried about whose names are going to be in the obituaries the next morning – my brothers don't need this on top of that. Please, Harry? I know it's hard, you're Ron's best friend, but _please_ don't tell him."

**TBC …**

* * *

Don't expect any updates in April, as I'm participating in Script Frenzy this year! Info is on profile.

Hope the last scene flowed okay, I wrote most of in an inspiration-filled buzz, then got interrupted and did the last bit late and tired.


	12. Minds and Memories

**Chapter Twelve: Minds and Memories**

The first Occlumency lesson arrived too quickly. Harry had not had time to get his head around what Ginny had told him, and knew she had probably not had adequate time to take in his secret either. It was with his stomach tied up in knots that he made his way to Albus' office that evening.

Ginny was already there, looking nervous but she smiled at him as he entered.

"Good evening, Harry," Albus said. Fawkes chirped from his perch.

"Evening," Harry replied, dropping his bag and reaching out to pet the phoenix.

"I suppose we should get started then. Are you both ready?"

Harry met Ginny's eyes again, and a message passed between them with no need for Occlumency to read it.

"Yeah, we're ready," Ginny said.

"Splendid!" Albus said. "Wands out then."

Ginny was already fingering hers; Harry drew out his own wand.

"Now, as a reminder," Albus began, "you're both going to be learning Legilimency _and_ Occlumency for this. But, as at the end of the day it's Harry's mind that's in most danger …"

"It's my mind we'll be breaking into the most?" Harry finished.

"That wasn't quite how I was going to put it, but yes," Albus agreed. "For the moment, anyhow, it's Legilimency we'll be focusing on, because of course it's foolish to practise blocking something that -"

"Isn't a threat," Harry said.

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Harry, would you mind not finishing my sentences?"

"Sorry."

Ginny giggled.

"So, who would like to go first?"

Harry looked at Ginny and raised an eyebrow.

"I will," she said.

"All right then," Albus said. "Wand at the ready, Miss Weasley. Both of you relax, look each other in the eye. Don't break contact."

Harry had a sudden urge to laugh as they kept their gaze on each other, and Ginny's mouth twitched.

"The incantation is '_Legilimens_'," Albus continued, "but don't cast it yet. As you do, picture a passageway with a door at the end."

"Ookay," Ginny said slowly.

"The spell should move you down that passageway, and open the door," Albus said. "Harry."

"Huh?"

"I want you to think of a memory, something vivid but mundane, put it at the front of your mind."

"Um – why?"

"Anything at the front of your mind will be just beyond the door Miss Weasley is trying to go through," Albus said. "Her aim is to find out what you're thinking of."

"Oh," Harry said. He cast his mind around. He settled on the memory of Ron eating his bacon sandwich that morning. The image was too gross to forget in a hurry. "Ready."

"Me too," Ginny said.

"Off you go, then," Albus said.

It had sounded pretty easy when Albus had instructed them, but as Harry focused on the bacon sandwich memory, Ginny seemed to be struggling. Her wand hand shook slightly as she held it pointed towards Harry, finally letting it drop with a gasp.

"That's harder," she said, "than I thought."

"It's not called advanced magic for no reason," Albus said with a reassuring smile. "Try again when you're ready."

Ginny took a deep breath, pointed her wand at Harry and tried again. "_Legilimens!_"

Twice more she tried while Harry stood waiting for something, before finally he felt something poke at his mind and the next thing he knew, Ron eating his sandwich filled his vision, blocking out Albus' office completely.

It passed a moment later, and Ginny gasped out, "Gross!"

Harry grinned. "Looks like you found it."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "What exactly was it?"

"My brother eating," Ginny said, pulling a face. "Harry, you're too cruel."

"Sorry, it was the first thing I thought of," Harry replied.

Albus chuckled. "Congratulations, Miss Weasley, you did very well."

"Thanks." Ginny wiped her forehead on her sleeve. "Is it always that hard?"

"Oh no, like anything it gets easier with practise." Albus smiled. "I think that's enough for today, don't you?"

"Easiest Occlumency lesson I've ever had," Harry grinned.

"Don't look so smug, Mr Potter, it's your turn now," Albus said. "Do you have a memory in mind, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny frowned slightly, before a wicked grin split over her face. Harry suddenly had a bad feeling. "Ready," she said.

* * *

"Ginny, you are evil," Harry gasped, his heart rate returning to normal.

Her brown eyes glittered mischievously. "You asked for it, Potter."

"Seriously, what _was_ that?"

"Fred and George cooked it up a couple of years ago after going to see a Muggle horror film with Dad. Ron and I had nightmares for weeks."

"I don't think you two have quite grasped the concept of _mundane_," Albus remarked, from where he was busy repairing one of his silver instruments. "Accidental magic is common enough when the mind is being invaded; let's not increase the chances, shall we?"

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny mumbled, but the look on her face said clearly that the payback had been worth the gentle reprimand.

"Well, besides that, the two of you have done very well," Albus continued. "You've grasped the basics of both Legilimency and Occlumency in one lesson."

For a moment Harry thought he had misheard. "I thought you said we weren't doing any Occlumency today? We weren't trying to block -"

"I thought it best not to introduce it as such, considering your history with Occlumency," Albus said, "but what you did was a diversion tactic – rather than blocking the whole of your mind, you let the invader access something they can't use against you."

"Oh," Harry said. It made sense, he supposed.

"Of course, there's more to it than what you've done today, but it was a good start, well done." Albus placed the last fragile wheel back in place, tapped it with his wand and the instrument started spinning again. He smiled in satisfaction and turned back to them. "See you next week, then."

Relieved that the lesson was over, Harry picked up his bag, shooting a glare at a still-smiling Ginny.

"Oh and Harry, stay back a moment," Albus said. "Goodnight, Miss Weasley."

"Night, Professor," she said, opening the office door. "Night, Harry."

"Night, Ginny."

She smiled "Sweet dreams." Harry glared at her again and she chuckled.

After the door had closed behind her, Albus smiled at Harry. "I have something to show you."

"What?"

"Follow me."

Harry had not yet entered Albus' private quarters. He stared around in wonder as Albus led him to the upper floor of his office and through the only door. It came out into a living-room, large but cosy, with a roaring fire in the ornate fireplace. Brightly coloured tapestries adorned the walls, and the carpet was, of course, Gryffindor scarlet. Two doors led off the room; one was open, and Harry could see bookshelves through it.

"My personal library," Albus remarked, seeing where Harry's gaze was. "Well worth a read someday, but that's not what you're here for tonight."

"What is?"

Albus stepped in front of one of the tapestries, which featured a prancing white horse whose rider peered over Albus' shoulder at Harry. "Who's that?"

"That's Harry, Efore," Albus said. "Could you let us in, please?"

"The famous Harry Potter, eh?" Efore replied, looking more interested. "I suppose I could do that. Password?"

"Citizen Kane."

The room was pitch black. Albus lit his wand. It was like a huge walk-in cupboard. The rooms were lined with shelves, crammed to bursting with books and nik-nacks that Harry had no idea of the use for.

Albus led him down the right side until about halfway, and then stopped.

"Here we are."

Before him stood a plain wooden box. Harry stared at it. "What is it?"

"First, I want to make something absolutely clear." Albus lowered his wand slightly and looked Harry directly in the eye. "This is only to be used in absolute emergencies, got it?"

"Er – yes."

"Harry?"

"Yeah, okay, I agree."

"Also, if it should boil down to a choice – you are far more valuable than me. No, don't argue," Albus said firmly as Harry opened his mouth. "If it's a choice of saving your life or saving mine, Harry, then yours takes priority. Always. No exceptions. I want your word on that."

A lump arising in his throat, Harry nodded.

"Harry?"

"Yes." It came out croaked; Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, you have my word."

Albus smiled again, and opened the box.

Harry was not sure what he had been expecting, but he hadn't been prepared for what the reality was. Sitting on a velvet lining inside the box was a thin vial, stopped with a cork. The liquid inside was a kind of translucent gold. There could only have been a couple of mouthfuls in total.

"What is it?" Harry found himself whispering.

"Do you want to hazard a guess?"

Harry frowned, and shuffled nearer for a better look. The liquid glittered in the wandlight. It didn't look like any potion he knew of.

"Should I know it?"

"I believe you're familiar with its origin," Albus replied. "Which, fortunately, is no more."

"It's not –" Harry stopped himself. The very idea was ridiculous.

"Not what?"

"Albus, it's not – not Elixir of Life, surely?"

"As a matter of fact, it is," was the reply. "A last gift from my old friend Nicholas. You remember him, don't you?"

"Of course I do! The maker of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Yes. The sneaky devil left me this in his will. Told me to hold onto it in case."

"But …" Harry trailed off.

"This is all the Elixir left in the world. Should you be after immortality, the amount here is useless, but if one was very near death, the Elixir would – perhaps not entirely heal them, but keep them alive for some time longer – probably long enough to be healed properly."

"Wow," Harry whispered. The thought that Albus would still have some of this precious potion left after Flamel's death had never occurred to him.

"How much would you need if you were dying?" Harry asked.

"I think that would depend on the nature of the death. Nicholas did say it didn't take much, so I would suggest a drop at a time."

"Why did he leave some to you?" Harry asked. "Do you know?"

"No I don't," Albus replied. "But – he knew a great deal about you. I imagine he wanted me to hang onto it for your sake."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to this, so he kept silent as Albus carefully placed the Elixir back in its box on the shelf and led him out of the room.

* * *

Harry grinned as the wind whipped his hair. It felt good to be back on the Quidditch pitch again. So much had changed since the last time he had played, but for a while he was able to forget everything and fly away his tension.

His friends waved at him from the stands. He looped the loop for the sake of showing off, and then focused on a bird fluttering around the goalposts, which darted out of sight once it noticed him zooming towards it.

A shot of gold sparked his attention, and he turned his head. Albus had appeared and shot something out of his wand; he smiled at Harry and took his place in the stands, a few feet from Ron and Hermione. A few moments later, a Golden Snitch shot across Harry's vision and upwards. He grinned and flew his broom towards it.

Once he caught the Snitch, he let it go, closed his eyes and counted to twenty before opening them. As he scanned the pitch to spot the glint of gold, he saw Parvati Patil come running out into the stands, waving at Albus. Harry frowned. Hermione spoke to her briefly, before turning and beckoning to an already approaching Albus. Ron and Hermione were gestured away, and Albus and Parvati conferred briefly before he began leading her back towards the castle.

Harry almost fell off his Firebolt in his hurry to dismount. "What was that about?" he called to Hermione.

"It's Trelawney," she whispered.

"What about her?"

"She's made another prophecy."

* * *

"Minerva, you must remind me to offer Sybill a pay rise," Albus was saying as Harry let himself into his office. "Afternoon, Harry. I'm guessing Miss Granger must have told you what happened."

"Yeah, she did."

Professor McGonagall smiled at him, and Harry returned it warily. After the first-name fiasco, he had tried to avoid having anything to do with her out of classroom situations in fear the same feelings would be invoked; her being both his Head of House and Albus' wife, however, it was not at all easy.

"Was it to do with Voldemort?" Harry blurted, half-hoping it was, and half-hoping it wasn't.

"Yes it was," Albus replied simply. "Minerva …"

"Yes, I know the drill." She gave him a quick kiss. "I'll leave you two to talk."

It briefly crossed Harry's mind that Albus didn't seemed to have learnt anything about confiding in loved ones, but didn't have time to dwell on the fact. Once Professor McGonagall had left, Albus brought out a vial of memory.

"Miss Patil let me take this," he said to Harry. "She doesn't remember the prophecy herself anymore."

"Did anyone else hear it?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Albus emptied the memory into his Pensieve. Professor Trelawney's revolving figure appeared, and began speaking in those harsh tones that were growing ever more familiar.

"_Nine and twenty until the turning point, when ally turns on ally, and innocent and guilty run together. Five pieces of the hidden puzzle need to be found, but at the end whose hand will strike against the Dark Lord?"_

"Short and not so sweet," Albus commented.

"Since when to prophecies ask questions?" Harry said.

"I haven't heard ones which ask questions before," Albus said. "I suppose it means she doesn't know."

"She was the one who made the prophecy about me being the only one who could."

"Yes, but prophecies are funny things – they don't really work like that," Albus replied.

"So what's it mean?"

"Well, I think it's safe to assume the five puzzle pieces mean the remaining Horcruxes," Albus replied. "But the rest I admit sends a shiver up my spine."

Harry swallowed. "It sounds like someone's going to betray us."

"Yes it does," Albus said. "But for all we know it means something completely different."

Later, Harry's mind was full not just of the memory Albus had shown him of Voldemort requesting a job, but also Trelawney's words. He cast his mind back to Pettigrew, remembering how the Order had trusted him. Was it possible there was a traitor in their midst? Or was the prophecy referring to someone betraying Voldemort – or something else entirely?

There was no use worrying about it, Harry told himself. It was probably best left for Albus to discern the meaning. Until then, he would focus on other things.

As he drifted off to sleep, it occurred to him that there had been something, days ago, that he had been meaning to ask Albus. Something the man had said the other day had reminded him – what had it been?

**TBC …**


	13. Your Mother's Eyes

**Chapter Thirteen: Your Mother's Eyes**

"Are you worried?" Hermione asked Harry the next morning.

"About what? Pass the coffee."

"A possible traitor." Hermione lowered her voice. "What Trelawney predicted."

"You're the one who thinks Divination's a load of rubbish, Hermione," said Ron.

"Most of what comes out her mouth _is_ a load of rubbish," Hermione replied. "But we know she makes real ones sometimes -"

"Guys, keep your voices down, will you?" Harry hissed.

"I'm not worried," Ron said.

"I wasn't asking you, I was asking Harry."

"I know, but there's no sense getting in a state over something we don't understand. Leave it to Dumbledore to figure out."

"Harry?" Hermione said gently. "I figure you're thinking it wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh," said Ron, his ears starting to redden. "Sorry, mate, I didn't think -"

"It's okay, Ron, you've got a point." An owl landed in front of them, a newspaper clutched in its beak. Harry started counting out Knuts. "Anyway, I've got enough prophecies to worry about, I'm not going to get into a tizzy about this one."

"Very sensible," said Ron.

Hermione bit her lip, but remained silent.

Harry removed the newspaper from the owl, paid it and raised his goblet. "Here's to having nothing more to do with any kind of Divination ever again."

Ron grinned and they clinked goblets. Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry took a gulp of orange juice and opened up the _Daily Prophet_, before promptly choking.

_ATTACK AT LEAKY CAULDRON_, the paper read. _TWO DEAD_.

Below the headline was spread two portraits, one of a familiar-looking witch with spiky hair.

* * *

"For goodness' sake, stop fussing Albus," Minerva huffed. "I am perfectly fine."

"You were Stunned, Mina," Albus said quietly.

"Just the one this time -"

"Yes, but you remember what Poppy said about being careful after last term." Albus kissed Minerva's cheek, ignoring her protests. "You're staying here until she deems you all right. Which, knowing her, probably won't be until tomorrow."

Minerva folded her arms and glared at him. Albus just chuckled.

The door of the Hospital Wing opened, and Severus looked in. "Albus, there you are. Potter and his friends are in your office."

Albus inwardly groaned. He had been hoping to get a couple of hours' sleep before having this conversation.

"Thank you, Severus." He stood and squeezed his wife's hand gently. "I'll come back later."

Minerva pointedly ignored him.

Outside his office, Albus took a deep breath before entering. Harry was sitting hunched by the desk, the _Prophet_ clenched in his hands and his face pensive. Hermione was next to him with a hand on his shoulder, and Ron was hovering awkwardly in the background.

"Shouldn't the two of you be in class?" Albus said by way of a greeting.

"Professor!" Hermione jumped to her feet. "We didn't mean – we're here for Harry -"

"It's okay, guys," Harry muttered. "I don't want to get you in trouble, I'll see you later."

In the pause as Ron and Hermione left the room, Albus looked down at the newly delivered newspaper on his desk and sighed. This would not be an easy conversation.

"What's happening to me?" Harry asked the moment the door had closed. The anxiety and unsureness in his eyes cut to Albus' heart. "It can't be a coincidence; and I've only ever seen the present before -"

Albus raised a hand to stop him, and sat down. "Harry, just because Voldemort attacked the Leaky Cauldron doesn't necessarily mean you saw the future -"

"But I did." Harry pointed at the photos on the front of the paper. "These two were the first to come running out the pub; I'd know that hairstyle anywhere. They came running out, and got killed." He paused. "The dream – vision – it _was_ different, because more people died, I don't understand that – but these two I saw for definite."

It was as Albus had thought. "Well, the only reason no more died was because we had been watching the Leaky Cauldron since you had the vision. If we hadn't been there, I daresay events would have gone exactly as you saw them."

"So you believe I saw the future?"

Albus nodded. "I suspected it might be the case before now, but now it's certain."

"I don't understand _how_, though." Harry flopped back in his chair. "It wasn't anything like the usual visions. Besides being the future, my scar didn't hurt and I wasn't seeing it from Voldemort's perspective."

This was the time to bite the bullet, Albus told himself. What marvellous phrases those Muggles thought up … He reluctantly forced his mind back to the conversation.

"Harry, it's time I told you something."

The reaction was astonishing. In a split second the boy jolted upright and fixed Albus with a look of surprise, expectancy, and a tiny bit of fear mixed in.

"I expected you to postpone this conversation for months," Harry said, his eyes strangely bright. "You think I'm ready to hear it?"

Oops.

"Er, actually Harry, this isn't what we mentioned over the summer," Albus said. "This is something else."

This time there was definite hurt on Harry's face. "You've been keeping something _else_ from me?"

"Not for that long, I assure you," Albus hurried to say. "I only found out last Christmas. As it was Sirius who told me -" Albus swallowed hard at the memory, "- I was expecting him to be the one to tell you."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "That's rare, Sirius knowing something about me that you didn't."

Albus smiled wearily. "It seems he and James were the only ones Lily ever told." Harry's ears visibly pricked further at the mention of Lily's name.

"It's about my mum?"

"Yes." Albus took a deep breath. "She was a Seer."

It took a moment for the statement to sink in. "Wh-what?"

As Albus repeated what he had said, he counted the confusion, disbelief, comprehension and a kind of horror taking form one by one on Harry's face.

"When you say Seer -" Harry finally began.

"Not like Sybil," Albus said with a small smile, knowing exactly what Harry was thinking. "Not prophecies -"

"Visions," Harry said for him.

"Yes."

Harry bit his lip. "So – you think _I -_"

"Inherited it? It certainly looks like it now."

To Albus' amusement, Harry let out a groan and rested his head in his arms on the desk. "I hate Divination."

"How many people died in your original vision?" Albus asked gently.

For a moment Harry didn't answer. "About a dozen, I think. It was hard to tell," he said finally. "Why?"

"Why? What you Saw saved about ten lives, Harry." Albus dared smile. "I would call that a good thing."

There was still doubt in Harry's eyes. Albus gently squeezed his hand. "Harry. You have things from your father – the map, for example."

"Yeah," Harry said slowly.

"Well, now you have something from your mother."

"My eyes." Harry suddenly grinned. "In more than one sense, I guess."

Albus chuckled. "It looks like it."

"Sirius knew I might have – this?"

"He knew it was a possibility," Albus said. "Knowing you, he thought it might be wise not to bring the subject up until it was certain, to stop you worrying unnecessarily. I agreed."

"Guess that makes sense," Harry mumbled.

"I'm afraid he didn't tell me much about how it worked with Lily," Albus apologised. "I know it covers the past as well as the future, but other than that -"

"What?" Harry frowned. "I can see stuff already happened? I haven't heard of that."

"According to Sirius, yes."

"Huh." Harry looked deep in thought, and Albus decided not to interrupt. After a long while, Harry said slowly, "Can I learn to control it? Or does it just pop up when I'm not expecting it?"

"A bit of both, I think. I don't think even the most experienced Seer can fully control what they See."

There was a pause. "My mum – do you think she ever Saw what would happen to her?"

The thought had not occurred to Albus before, but as Harry asked, a snatch of long-forgotten conversation echoed in his head, and a cold hand snaked around his heart.

"_You know – in these times we're in – just – be careful. And – and if – the worst should happen …"_

_A look of horror, as if decoding a message the other members of the room could not. "Lil – I -"_

"_It'll be all right. I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

It was not what Harry wanted to hear, but Albus could tell he had already read the answer on his face. "I – I think she might have done," he said in a hoarse voice. "In hindsight …" He swallowed.

As the last conversation rolled over in Albus' head again, something else struck him. In an attempt to break the mournful silence, he started to speak, but Harry beat him to it.

"Do you think she knew about – that I – would survive?"

Albus nodded. "I think she did, yes."

Harry frowned. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

"You know I wouldn't do that, Harry."

"I hope she knew," Harry murmured.

* * *

As Harry left the office, he mulled the conversation over in his head. Maybe having the Sight was not such a bad thing? The thought of the future simultaneously exited Harry and terrified him. What if it wasn't good? How could he face Voldemort if he'd seen that he would win?

But Seeing the past … that didn't sound so bad. True, he had regretted seeing James as a teenager, but he would do almost anything to see what his family had been like when he was little. Sirius had sworn that his dad had grown up by then.

Perhaps it would just be easier to ask Albus, Harry told himself. Why had he not thought of asking before? Maybe Albus could let him see some of his memories –

Harry stopped dead. It had only just sunk in. _Albus had babysat him._

All of a sudden, the Question came running back, pulling the forgotten dream in its wake.

_The Portkey__ fell to the ground, but he was distracted by the appearance of the two men, one of which was drenched in blood._

_"Albus!" called James. "We need help here, now. Don't let Harry see -"_

_Albus put his hand over baby Harry's eyes, flicked his wand and a gold-barred playpen appeared out of thin air. Albus quickly deposited Harry inside and magicked an opaque shield around it to prevent Harry from watching the unfolding scene._

_"What on earth happened?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside Sirius and taking a good look at him. Harry's godfather look half-conscious; there was no physical wound Harry could see, but the dark, sticky mess spoke for itself._

_"Regulus," James panted. "It got nasty, there was a duel." He looked down at his friend, a horrified expression on his face. "How could Regulus do that to his own – his own brother?"_

How could he have forgotten the dream from that summer? Harry turned on his heel and shot back towards Albus' office.

"I remember!" he shouted as he hurtled through the office door.

Albus, who was still at the desk, raised an eyebrow. "Remember what?"

"I think I had another vision this summer," Harry panted, collapsing back into his chair. Alarm started to spread across Albus' face; Harry continued quickly. "Of the past. I thought it was either a dream or a repressed memory; I was going to ask you if it had actually happened."

"What was it of?"

"You were babysitting me," Harry said. "We were playing a game – you were invisible and I was trying to find you -"

Albus chuckled. "We did that a lot. You loved it."

"Then Dad and Sirius came in, after Regulus -"

Albus sat up straight, the humour vanishing from his face, so suddenly Harry started. "After Regulus what?"

"Cursed Sirius," Harry said, less cheerfully. "On the side of his head; blood everywhere." There was a pause. "I didn't know the two had ever had a confrontation."

Albus nodded slowly, still looking wary. "Yes. After – after Regulus joined up, Sirius – wanted to try and talk him out of it." There was pause. "I think Sirius told you the story, didn't he?"

"He said Regulus got cold feet and Voldemort killed him, or had him killed; he never mentioned the two of them fighting about it."

"Well, that's more or less what happened," Albus said. "There's just more details than he obviously gave."

"Any more details he left out?"

Albus considered. "Well, as far as we know, Voldemort didn't kill Regulus directly. According to Severus, he sent him on a mission that he never returned from; his body was never found and Voldemort never mentioned his name again."

"What kind of mission?" This story was becoming far more interesting than Harry had first thought it.

"That was kept between Voldemort and Regulus."

* * *

"You okay, Harry?"

He raised his head off the pillow. "What?"

Ron entered the room and flopped onto his bed. "You look miles away, mate. What happened with Dumbledore?"

Harry lay back down. After a moment he said, "I'm a Seer."

A whistle was all he received in reply.

"Turns out my mum was one," Harry said into his pillow. "Sirius told Albus last year."

"I didn't realise Seers actually _saw _anything," Ron said. "Trelawney never did."

Harry groaned. "Compare me and/or my mum to that old bag again and I will curse you so badly you won't be able to walk for a month."

"Sorry."

A long silence stretched. Finally Ron said, "You didn't actually answer my original question. Are you okay?"

"I guess so."

"Sure?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

Another pause.

"Albus thinks my mum might have known," Harry said after a while. "What was going to happen to her, I mean."

"That she was going to die?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty harsh. I'm sorry, mate."

"That's the point." Harry sat up and looked directly at Ron for the first time in the conversation. "I don't know how to feel about this – ability. On the one hand, I saved people's lives with the Leaky Cauldron attack – I'm not downplaying that. But at the same time ..."

"You don't know it's a good thing," Ron supplied.

"I don't know if it's a gift or a curse." Harry looked down at his hands.

"Well, not that I'm a expert or anything, but who says it has to be one or the other?" Ron tried a grin. "Maybe it's a bit of both."

"I think it is. That's what's so confusing."

* * *

Thoughts kept whirling around Harry's mind that night. Ron's snores and the other boys' deep breathing had been filling the dormitory for several hours before he finally dropped off. At first he did not realise he was asleep, until a strong drop in the temperature coupled with a sudden gust of wind made him open his eyes.

Although he was still lying in bed, his curtains were being whipped almost off the posts. Harry pulled them open. The dormitory had disappeared; he slid out of bed, shivering madly, and saw that he was on the top of the Astronomy Tower.

_Okay, I'm dreaming_, he thought.

Harry turned back to his bed to get back in it in the hope that he would fall into a deeper, dreamless sleep, but it had gone. Something pulled him to the edge of the tower, and he looked over the battlements to see his bed, lying broken at the bottom.

"Harry."

He jumped and spun around. "Mum?"

Lily just smiled at him, and turned towards a door, that had appeared out of thin air.

"Wait!" Harry ran forwards, but she had already gone through. He opened the door and followed.

The corridor beyond was definitely not from Hogwarts. The damp stone walls were bare; every now and then was a door, heavy and metal with numerous bolts on the outside.

He could no longer feel any cold, but Harry shivered anyway, and followed the redheaded figure of his mother.

"Not so fast," he panted, almost jogging to keep up with Lily's fast pace. She rounded a corner, briefly glancing back at him, and disappeared out of sight. Harry rounded the corner, and stopped dead.

He was back in Hogwarts; in a room that he recalled. It was not much like any other classroom, and he would not have known which it was if it had not been for the ornate mirror stretching floor to ceiling.

Lily had disappeared completely; Harry moved in front of the Mirror of Erised, and there she was, waving out of the glass. She was alone save for one other figure; Harry could not make out who it was. As he watched, Lily turned to the figure and they began to kiss.

Harry began involuntarily to stretch out a hand, longing to be with his parents, but froze when the figure's face come into light.

"Sirius?" he whispered.

As he said the name, Lily broke away and dissolved into nothing. Sirius stepped completely out of the shadows, now still and staring into the distance. Harry put his hand roughly on the cool glass; the next thing he knew, it felt as though he was flying.

The glass had gone, and it was just Sirius in front of him. Before Harry could speak, Sirius melted into someone else; a younger man, still with the Black looks, but much darker eyes than his brother's bright blue.

Voldemort appeared out of thin air and began talking with Regulus, as if they had been halfway through a conversation, and Harry was not there.

"Do you think you can manage that, Black?"

Regulus swallowed, visibly trembling. "Y-yes."

"You had better." Voldemort reached out a hand, and dropped something into it, something that glinted.

No sooner had he passed the item on, Voldemort disappeared again as if he had not been there. Regulus stared at the palm of his hand for a moment, before silently reaching it out and giving it to someone else – a figure who appeared only a split second before it dropped.

Ginny looked at the item herself, turned around and opened a door from nothing. Harry followed her through.

She had completely disappeared. He was outside again; this time in Diagon Alley. It looked very different, though; most of the shops had gone. Harry walked down the alley, passing only a jewellers, Borgin and Burkes, the Magical Menagerie, Flourish and Blotts, and coming to a stop in front of a shop filled with mirrors.

As he looked into the window, he glimpsed a distorted figure appear behind him; as Harry turned, there was burst of green light that completely blinded him.

As his vision slowly returned, Harry realised he was kneeling in the Weasley's garden. It was evening, and there were flowers spread over the whole lawn. In the middle of it all sat Ginny on a white chair, tears running silently down her cheeks.

"Ginny?"Harry went to talk to her, but as he reach out a hand to her shoulder he jerked awake.

It took a few moments to realise that he was still in the dormitory and it had, in fact, all been a dream.

As Harry turned over and began to drift back to sleep, it crossed his mind that it hadn't felt like a dream at all.

**TBC ... **

**I know Seer!Lily is overdone ... but in my defence, I had the idea for this fic as a newbie to fanfic and by the time I got around to writing it properly, it had got too absorbed in the plot.**


	14. All's Fair

**Chapter Fourteen: All's Fair**

"And the Quaffle passes to – hold on Crabbe, that's not a Bludger! Quaffle is beaten towards Chaser Weasley, who catches it – nicely done, Ginny – and speeds towards the Gryffindor goal ... intercepted by Gruff, come on that's got to be a foul – apparently Madam Hooch disagrees. Slytherin in possession now, heading towards their goalposts ... And the Snitch has been spotted! Potter is on its trail ..."

Harry blocked out the rest of Seamus' commentary as he sped towards the glint of gold at the foot of the teachers' stands. He could sense Malfoy not far behind, but as he grew closer he realised the glint was nothing but something metallic on the ground. He pulled out of the dive at the last second, Malfoy skidding over the grass before managing to yank his broom back into the air.

As Harry soared over the stands, he spotted Albus in the middle, his hand unashamedly clasped in Professor McGonagall's. He shot them a grin and turned back to the game.

His mind wandered as he watched the Slytherin Keeper being yelled at by Malfoy for letting in Ginny's fifth goal. As eventful as the beginning of term had been, things had settled down and been quiet for a change. Harry had had no more visions, he was getting a grip on his Occlumency, he was learning a lot from Albus' Defence lessons, he was getting along all right in the rest of his work, and things seemed pretty normal. Even the news was reporting less deaths and disappearances. He knew it was only the calm before the storm, but he was determined to make the most of it.

Ginny was heading back towards the goalposts, and Harry almost felt sorry for the Slytherin Keeper as he watched her approach with a terrified expression. Malfoy was glaring at him, with a _let this one in and you're off the team_ sort of face.

And there it was – the Snitch! Only a couple of feet away from the goalposts; Malfoy, absorbed in watching the Keeper, hadn't seen it. Harry lowered his broom and began flying towards it, at a pace which looked casual. Only when he was nearer it than Malfoy was did he speed up. A moment later the other Seeker was on his trail, but a moment after that, Harry had the struggling golden ball in his hand.

_I love Quidditch_, he thought, grinning as his team-members clapped him on the back and Malfoy had a tantrum.

* * *

"I found it, Albus." Minerva smiled and held out her palm. In the middle lay the locket, detached from its chain.

"Thank you. Where was it?" Albus took it and tried to re-attach it.

"On the Quidditch pitch. Here, let me." Albus stood very still as Minerva threaded the locket back on its chain and mended the broken loop with her wand. "There, all better."

"Are the photos still in it?"

"Yes, I checked. They're fine."

"You're a life-saver, my dear." He grinned and kissed her.

"And you," she replied once he had pulled away again, "seriously over-reacted when you lost it. So spill."

"What?"

"Something's worrying you, Albus. I know you, don't forget."

"Yes, and you know that I'm always worried nowadays."

"Not like this. Talk to me, love."

Albus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Call it Voldemort-Related Stress Syndrome."

"It's been quiet -"

"I know, which makes me feel he's up to something." Albus gave a wry smile. "Am I getting paranoid?"

"No, but I do think you need a break."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mina, I can't take a break now."

"Why not? You-Know-Who hasn't been too active, and the Order can always call you back in an emergency. You need a holiday. Let's go to Rome."

"Rome!"

"Yes, remember, our second choice for our honeymoon."

"I thought we ruled it out because neither of us speak Italian?"

"Albus! You're just thinking up excuses now. Come on, let's go away for a while. The school will survive without us for a couple of weeks."

Albus felt himself weaken. "All right. _All right._ You win." He kissed her. "Let's go to Rome."

* * *

Harry had noticed that Albus had been looking stressed recently, but when he saw him for his next Defence lesson, the headmaster looked a lot more relaxed.

"Afternoon, Harry," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I'd ask you why you're in such a good mood," Harry replied. "But I'm not sure – do I want to know?"

Albus chuckled. "Minerva and I are going to take a holiday for a couple of weeks."

Harry blinked. "Oh. When?"

"As soon as we've booked. We're going to Rome."

Harry whistled. "Nice."

"So that leaves this." Albus waved a familiar looking piece of parchment at him.

"You're joking. You want me to sign another flipping contract? Don't you trust me?"

"It's slightly different than the last," Albus said, ignoring the last question. "Any visions involving Voldemort count as an emergency and are adequate reason to interrupt our break. Other things -"

"Are not," Harry finished. "Got it. Can't you just take my word on it?"

"I've also factored in Occlumency practise." Albus gave Harry a hard look.

"Okay, okay. Look, can't you just leave me the list and trust me to keep to it?"

For a moment Albus just looked at him, an infuriating smile curling his mouth, before finally putting the list down on the desk. "All right. You don't have to sign."

"I find the fact that you wanted me to deeply offending," Harry stated, crossing his arms.

Albus chuckled. "I do trust you, Harry. I honestly just wanted to see your reaction."

Unsure whether to feel happier or not, Harry settled for just glaring.

* * *

"It feels strange doing this without Professor Dumbledore here," Ginny commented as Harry chased the Creevey brothers from the Room of Requirement. "Doesn't it?"

"Mm." Harry shut the door and turned to face her. "Ready?"

"I'm all set. What about you, Potter?"

"Suppose so. After you."

Since the first interesting Occlumency lesson, the memories cast around had been mundane enough to keep Albus happy and his office in one piece. With him gone however, the practise session slid further and further down a route Harry was sure he would not approve of. It wasn't until Harry's memory of meeting Aragog caused a minor earthquake in the room that they paused for breath.

"This should be a competitive sport," Ginny said from the floor after regaining her breath. "Seriously, what made you think of that?"

"No idea. What on earth possessed you to think of the time you walked in on Fred naked? I'll never be able to look at him again!"

"You were the one who thought to show me him snogging Angelina; I thought I would return the favour."

"You're evil, Ginevra."

"So are you, Potter."

The two dissolved into laughter. It took a couple of minutes to stop themselves.

"I've been thinking," Ginny said eventually. "While this is all well and good, Dumbledore did say he thought you'd mastered the diversion thing now. Okay, I know for anything the more you practise the better you get, but …"

"Your point?"

"I was wondering maybe if we should try again, or rather just me. I'll try and get at a memory of my own choosing, and you have to block me from it." Her brown eyes glittered. "Bet he'll be impressed when he comes back, right?"

"I dunno …"

"Well, it was just a thought, but I'd bet anything that's the next stage of the lessons. After all Voldemort's not gonna give you any warning if he breaks into your head."

"True." Harry hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ginny; he did—well, more or less; he didn't trust her to not try and give him a heart attack, but with secrets, he did. But poking into his mind anywhere at will …

"Harry? You lost there?" She waved a hand in front of his face.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I suppose … yeah, okay."

"Don't worry, I have no desire to see anything to do with you and Cho," she said with a grin. "Your private moments are safe."

Harry glared at her. "Funny how you just put them at the forefront of my mind."

"Put them back then. That's what you're supposed to be learning, right?"

"Right."

"Ready?"

"Er … I suppose so." Harry reluctantly met Ginny's eyes.

"_Legilimens_."

As usual, it took a moment for the spell to work; Harry felt a pressing on his mind and tried to block it, but failed.

"_Not like Sybil," Albus said with a small smile. "Not prophecies -"_

"_Visions," Harry said for him._

"_Yes."_

_Harry bit his lip. "So – you think I -"_

"_Inherited it? It certainly looks like it now."_

_Harry let out a groan and rested his head in his arms on the desk. "I hate Divination."_

"_How many people died in your original vision?" Albus asked gently._

_For a moment Harry didn't answer. "About a dozen, I think. It was hard to tell," he said finally. "Why?"_

"_Why? What you Saw saved about ten lives, Harry." Albus dared smile. "I would call that a good thing."_

Ginny relinquished the spell, and Harry's head cleared. "Ouch," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Getting in that far comes with a headache."

Ginny had raised her eyebrows. "You're a Seer?"

"What? – Oh. Didn't I mention that before?"

"No, you didn't."

"Sorry. Forgot."

"You _forgot?_"

"Look, I've had a lot on my mind lately, okay?"

"No need to snap, Potter."

Harry sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean -"

"I know. Weight of the world on your shoulders and all that. I get it, it can't be easy."

"Huh. Every time I think there can't possibly be any more added, something else comes up." Harry stared at Ginny for a moment. "Have you told your brothers you're ill yet?"

She sighed. "Harry …"

"They need to know. I can't, no I won't, keep this from my best friend indefinitely."

"Not indefinitely, just as long as it takes to know what's going on. Please, Harry."

"How's that going?"

Ginny sighed and sat down, the Occlumency forgotten. "Still narrowing it down. We might not know for a while."

"It's not getting any worse, is it?" Harry asked, studying her pale face in anxiety.

She smiled. "No, if anything I've been feeling a bit better of late."

"Glad to hear it."

* * *

Nevertheless, Ginny was not at the next DA meeting, asking Luna to pass on the message that she had an appointment with Madam Pomfrey. Harry tried to run the meeting as normal without her, but suspected that it was obvious how distracted he was.

"Bit small today, aren't we?" Ron commented, standing back to let a first-year try Expelliarmus.

Harry jumped guiltily. "What?"

"We're missing three people, that's rare," Ron said. "Ginny, Justin and Zacharias. Where are the last two, anyway?"

"In the hospital wing," Ernie said.

"Why, what's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I wasn't there, but apparently Zach tripped at the top of the Grand Staircase and grabbed Justin, so they both toppled all the way down."

Ron snorted. "Is he usually that accident-prone?"

"No," Ernie replied. He paused. "Well, he did fall off his broom last week …"

"Where is Ginny, anyway?" Ron interrupted, rounding on a passing Luna.

"As she's already said three times, Ron," Hermione snapped, "she's seeing Madam Pomfrey."

"Yeah, but why?"

Harry carefully averted his eyes and became absorbed in watching one of the second-years.

"Just a normal check-up, Ron," Luna replied, not at all bothered by his interrogation. "She said it's nothing to worry about."

Harry cast his eyes about for something to distract Ron quickly. His eyes fell on Neville, who was struggling with the spell of the week, as Hermione started gently correcting his hand position. Without thinking it through properly he blurted, "Neville and Hermione look cosy, don't they?"

It worked, but he realised his mistake before the words had even finished coming out of his mouth. Ron's head whipped round, his face clouded, and he began marching over to unlock their hands. A _what have I done?_ sort of horror engulfed Harry where he stood.

"Maybe that wasn't a good idea," he muttered to nobody as Hermione started yelling at Ron to mind his own business. This would likely last a long time.; he would be spending the next week hearing both moan about the other. He hoped Ginny appreciated the sacrifice.

* * *

As it happened, Harry's comment led to one of the hugest rows he had ever heard between them that night, as Ron yelled about "messing around in DA meetings", while Hermione countered that not only had she not done anything of the sort, but that even if she had it was not Ron's business to tell her who she could date and where. Which just served to fuel his anger until what was coming out of his mouth didn't even make sense anymore. Harry knew he could probably, if not stop the fight, at least pause it for a while, by admitting that his comment had not been serious and he didn't believe for a moment there was anything between Hermione and Neville, but he didn't. He couldn't stand his friends rowing, but as long as they were, Ron's mind was on something besides his oddly-acting sister.

_Ginny had better tell him what's going on sooner or later,_ Harry thought, _or she won't have to worry about it because either me or Hermione will have strangled him. Messing about in DA meetings my foot. He just won't admit he can't stand to see Hermione with another guy._

If it got to spells being thrown or physical violence, he decided, he would intervene. If not, he would reluctantly leave them to it, and borrow a pair of Professor Sprout's earmuffs.

Harry didn't know what time Ron and Hermione stopped shouting at each other that night, as they were still at it when he went to bed; but for the next week they remained in stony silence, only speaking if someone addressed them, and both ignoring the other. Harry quickly tired of trying to hold conversations with either of them and, after classes, left them to it in search of somebody in a better mood.

That somebody turned out to be Ginny, who although had not heard any news (good or bad) about her health, was still determinedly more cheerful than her brother. The two of them discussed everything, from how their Occlumency sessions were going to who had seen Ron's ears turn the reddest. After a while the conversation turned to Harry's recently-discovered ability.

"Do you think you can See on demand?" Ginny asked curiously. "I mean for example, if I asked you who would win the next Quidditch World Cup?"

Harry grinned. "Of course," he joked, putting on an imitation of Trelawney. "The Inner Eye Sees all! And the Inner Eye says … Cyprus will be the next World Cup Champions. Or, I'm not sure, the ether's not clear … maybe China? Somewhere beginning with 'c', anyhow."

Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a kind of jolt that had been occurring when she laughed recently. He brushed it off as usual. "I can however predict that the Cannons will thrash the Montrose Magpies next season, with a score of five hundred and thirty to ninety, and the Snitch will be caught only after the game reaches into its fifth day."

"Yeah, right," he received in response. "Your Inner Eye needs testing."

"Ah, my dear Ginevra. Ron beat you to that joke three years ago."

"Damn."

They both dissolved into giggles, earning a few funny looks from the other people in the common room. Hermione, who was sitting two feet away and studying in earnest, pointedly ignored them.

"So, when's Dumbledore coming back?" Ginny asked.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because, idiot, don't think I haven't noticed how you two are on first-name terms now," Ginny said. "I expected him to have mentioned it to you at some point."

"Oh. I think he said they'd be away two weeks … guess that means back on Saturday."

Ginny seemed to be considering something. After a moment she said more carefully, "So … what exactly is the deal with you two?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment. "I don't know, really," he answered honestly. "We just—got closer, after Sirius died. I mean, we both miss him, and well … I guess that's just how it happened." He paused. "I don't really know how to define it, Gin. The last time I tried I had a mini-breakdown. So I'm trying not to think about it too much, and just enjoy it." He gave a weak smile. "Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Ginny said. "Did you try, you know, talking to Dumbledore about it?"

"Sort of."

"Did it help?"

"A bit." Harry smiled properly this time. "He told me that he used to babysit me, when I still lived with my parents. I hadn't known that before. And at that moment I needed to know that he'd cared before I got my scar, if you know what I mean."

Ginny nodded. "I can understand that."

As he had spoken, Harry felt something in him lighten, as if sharing his thoughts, no matter how scatter-brained they seemed to him, was lifting a burden off his chest. He hadn't meant to say all of that, but now it had come out he was glad he had, and doubly glad that it was Ginny he had shared it with. With no disregard to his friends, but he felt that Ron would probably not understand, whereas Hermione would probably want to analyse it and explain how it was he felt that way … he just wanted someone to listen, and that was exactly what Ginny was doing. After a moment he realised she'd slipped her hand into his—or was it the other way around? Either way, he felt sincerely glad that Ron was not in the room.

**TBC …**


	15. Quality Time

**Chapter Fifteen: Quality Time**

"Harry, why weren't you in Time Studies?"

Without looking up, Harry raised his hand. "Went to see Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione sat down next to him, frowning at the bruises. "Why, what did you do?"

"Broke my finger. Or rather, you did."

"Me! What do you mean?"

"That stack of books you left over there." Harry pointed. "I dropped my quill, went to pick it up and the whole bloody lot came down on me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does it still hurt?"

"Not really," Harry admitted. "I couldn't hold anything for a while though 'cause it was stiff; that's why I wasn't in the lesson."

"Can you hold a quill now?"

Harry flexed his index finger. "Yeah."

"Good, because Professor Bulla sent a bunch of notes with me and details of the homework. Also, a note arrived for you in class." She pulled a sheaf of parchment out of her bag and plonked it on the table in front of him.

Harry gulped. "Those look … complicated." In addition to the pages of neat handwriting, there were several diagrams with moving arrows. He chose to block out the rising panic for the moment and searched for the note.

It was in Albus' writing. Harry grinned and opened it.

_Dear Harry,_

_Just a reminder that your next Defence class is today. Hope the two weeks without any have not stopped you practising what we have learned so far. See you in an hour._

_AD_

"Oops." Harry jumped up. "Could you go through these with me later, Hermione? I'm late for Defence." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his bag and hurried from the room.

Albus was waiting patiently for him, his eyes twinkling as Harry rushed into the room. "Sorry! I forgot—"

"I did send you a note," Albus said with a raised eyebrow.

"I only just got it," Harry said, and quickly explained the finger situation.

"Ah, I see. Well, no matter, you're here now," Albus said. "So, shall we begin?"

They began with a recap of the most recent lessons, starting with the official NEWT material and moving on to the more complicated, advanced magic Albus had been trying to teach him. Although Harry had got the hang of most of it, he was still having trouble with the Portbind Charm.

This was one of Albus' own inventions, and not strictly speaking Defence, but Harry could see the usefulness. Albus had assured him that it was not a widely-known spell; he had shared it with only a few select Order members. It was meant to work in a similar way to a Portkey, except the opposite way around; the wizard would charm an object, and then wherever that object went, that wizard could travel to instantly in a manner similar to Apparition—except it was untraceable and couldn't be blocked by anti-Apparition wards. It was, however, even more complicated to perform than the Corporeal Manipulation spell.

"Why don't we leave it there for today," Albus said as he could see Harry struggling. "You've done very well, Harry; we can take this up again next lesson."

"Thanks," Harry gasped, collapsing into a chair. Albus gazed at him thoughtfully. Harry could feel his eyes on him, and after a moment said, "What?"

Albus turned to look at the object Harry had been attempting to charm—his Firebolt. He frowned in concentration, and swished his wand, uttering the spell, but nothing happened. "Ah."

"What?" Harry said again.

"I'm sorry, Harry, it looks like I miscalculated." Albus picked up a quill from his desk. "Try the spell one last time on this."

"How will the quill be useful?"

"Just try it, Harry."

Harry braced himself, and tried. To his utter amazement, the quill glowed pink for a moment, signifying success.

"That was easy!"

"I do apologise," Albus said, looking sheepish. "I failed to take into account the charms already on the broomstick; it didn't cross my mind to try first on something that was not already enchanted."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Shall we continue with this next time?"

"Yeah, let's."

"Very well. Oh, as a matter of fact, would you come back here later, after dinner? I don't think we've been seeing enough of each other lately."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, 'course I will."

Albus apologised again, and Harry assured him that it was okay as he left the office. He hoped Albus wouldn't beat himself up about it—he had admitted it was only a recent discovery of his, and he had not tested it to the limit yet.

"I promised not to pass that one onto the DA," Harry told a frustrated Ron later. "Sorry mate. But I've got some other stuff for us to try next meeting."

"Great, about time."

* * *

Harry left the next meeting in high spirits. The DA, which was flourishing in number, was progressing in leaps and bounds, and rising magnificently to the new, much more challenging spells. Ron and Hermione were back on speaking terms, if a little coolly. And partway through the session, he'd felt somebody trying to break into his mind, and successfully expelled the red-haired culprit, who'd winked at him cheekily.

"What was that for?"he asked Ginny afterwards, when everyone had gone.

"Just thought I'd try it," she said, grinning. "See if I could surprise you. Apparently not. Professor Dumbledore's going to be impressed."

"You think?"

"Of course, you idiot." She gave him a friendly shove. Harry shoved her back, and an all-out war started.

The exact nature of his relationship with Ginny was starting to occupy Harry's thoughts, and he spent much of the next few hours dwelling on the subject, trying to work out when they'd gone from mere acquaintances to firm friends. He was spending at least as, if not more, time with her than with Ron and Hermione—something Ron apparently hadn't noticed yet, but Hermione obviously had, judging by the infuriatingly secretive smiles she kept giving when she saw them together.

The four of them had spent some time together, but not very much. Harry was wondering if maybe he should rectify that.

He was only distracted when he remembered he was going back to Albus' after dinner, and wondered what the man had in mind.

* * *

"You're early."

"You sound surprised that I should be early," Harry said, closing the office door behind him.

Albus chuckled. "Not at all."

"So, what's up?"

Albus led Harry into his living quarters again, and Harry took in the surroundings, as impressed as last time. "Well, I came across these, and I thought it would be nice to show you. Sit down, Harry, make yourself at home." Albus gestured to the sofa and ventured into his personal library that he had pointed out to Harry last time he had been in there.

"Thanks," Harry said, sitting down. It did not escape his notice that many, many people would give their limbs to be told to make themselves at home in Albus Dumbledore's living room. Most of the first-years for a start.

Albus re-entered the room, carrying several large books with no titles on the spines, took in Harry's probably less-than-enthusiastic expression and chuckled. "I assure you these are more interesting than they look."

"What are they?"

"Have a look for yourself." Albus sat down the other end of the sofa and placed the books in between them.

Harry opened the first one, and gasped. A dark-haired toddler of about one was grinning up at him cheekily from the page. "That's me, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Are they all photo albums?"

"Yes; and you're the star of all of them as well. Feel free to peruse at your leisure."

"Wow." Harry slowly turned the pages of the first one. It must have been the latest one; in all of them Harry was already at least a year old. Numbers signifying dates were written in corners in Albus' cursive script, but Harry was too absorbed in the pictures to take them in. Albus was in many of the photos, either holding Harry before the camera or playing some kind of game with him—stuffed animals everywhere, levitating soft blocks and Harry gazing up in wonder, on a swing in an ordinary Muggle playground. Occasionally a Marauder made an appearance—mostly James or Sirius, but Remus appeared once. Lily was also in a couple of shots. The images stopped abruptly in the middle of the book, and Harry checked the date of the last one: a week before Halloween, 1981. The effect was sobering.

Albus was flicking through an earlier one, and Harry picked up the next in the pile. This was obviously the first one, as it began with a hospital scene. Harry straightened up, surprised. His mother, looking very pale but smiling broadly, was holding newborn Harry in her arms, James by her side and surrounded by Sirius, Albus, Remus and, Harry's blood boiled to see, Peter Pettigrew, all trying to get a good look. The photo was followed by several close-ups of little Harry, completely—to his shame—naked and very red and wrinkly.

"I was a looker, wasn't I."

Albus chuckled. "Absolutely gorgeous," he said fondly, ruffling Harry's hair. Harry's face went even redder than the photo.

They continued looking through the albums together until quite late, at which point Albus checked the clock and said Harry ought to be getting back to Gryffindor tower. "I'm sure you've got homework assignments I'm keeping you from."

Harry made a face at the reminder. "Just time studies."

"Anything interesting?"

"I've got to do an essay on long-term time travel." Harry reluctantly stood up and picked up his bag.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Albus commented.

"I missed the class and Bu—I mean, Professor Bulla's notes are pretty complicated. What is long-term time travel, anyway?"

"I'm sure Miss Granger could enlighten you as to the various definitions; having been in the class, she would probably have a better idea than I which of them Professor Bulla wishes you to focus on." Albus removed his glasses and began to polish them. "Although, if the focus is on the wrong part of one's own time, there's an excellent example of that in my library that should be of use."

"The wrong part of—what?"

"It's a diary of a man who travelled back thirty years and lived the rest of his life in his own past," Albus said. "A very good read. There's a copy in the school library but always a long waiting list for it. If you want to borrow it, just ask and I'll bring it to our next lesson."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Albus."

He began heading back to Gryffindor Tower, deep in thought, and rounded a corner only to collide with someone.

"Aah! Oh, sorry Ginny!" He dropped to his knees and began helping her pick up her textbooks.

"That's okay," she said, kneeling down too. "These things happen."

"You been to the library?"

"Yeah. Madam Pince threw me and Luna out because we were talking too loudly. Are you heading back to the common room?"

"Yeah." Books picked up, Harry fell into step beside her.

"You don't have to carry my books, you know."

"Only trying to help, seemed only fair as you have tonnes and I'm not carrying any."

"Well ... thanks."

There was a momentary pause before Ginny took a deep breath. "So, I heard there's a Hogsmeade visit going to be announced soon. Do you ... have plans?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "Hermione's been muttering about it, I think she's got some ideas."

"Oh," Ginny said.

"What about you?"

"I don't know. I'd like to go, haven't decided anything yet."

"Well, if Hermione hasn't planned otherwise, you could come with the three of us. If you want. I mean, we don't really hang out the four of us, thought it might be nice to try," Harry suggested.

"Um ... yeah. Maybe." There was a another, slightly awkward, pause. "I'll think about it."

"Great."

Ginny fell silent. Harry studied her curiously, not sure what he'd said to quieten her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

He didn't believe her, but wasn't sure what else to say. It was usually quite easy-going between them, and to be honest he was slightly relieved when they arrived at the Fat Lady.

After giving the password, he gave Ginny back her books and headed towards Ron and Hermione, where they were both doing homework in silence.

"So, what did Dumbledore want?" Ron asked.

Harry smiled, forgetting the awkward moment with Ginny, and told them what the visit had been about.

"Why's my sister staring over here?" Ron asked

Harry looked around, and Ginny quickly diverted her gaze, going back to a conversation with one of her dorm-mates. "I dunno."

"Ron," Hermione said, "could you do me a favour and get _Hogwarts, a History_ out the library for me?"

"What?" Ron said. "You've already got a copy!"

"I lent it to Susan. And I really need it."

"Go and get it yourself," Ron said. Back on speaking terms they might have been, but it was still quite tense.

"I can't, I've got this essay due in tomorrow—"

"Don't worry Hermione, I'll go," Harry said, standing up.

"Oh—no, Harry—er," Hermione said, sounding flustered. "Actually, never mind. I'll manage."

Harry frowned, but didn't press the subject. Ron, however, started demanding to know why she had been willing to make him trail down to the library for her but not Harry. Harry decided to leave them to it, and took his homework up to the dormitory.

After a while, Hermione came up, and he jumped at the opportunity. "Hermione, could you explain these notes? I don't understand—"

"Sorry about that," she interrupted. "I was trying to get rid of Ron, but it didn't work. Obviously."

"Get rid of him? Why?"

"Because I wanted to—" Hermione broke off as Neville entered the dormitory. "Oh. Hi, Neville."

"Hi. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked.

"No ... I was just helping Harry with his essay." Hermione sat down on Harry's bed and pulled his work towards her. "What don't you understand?"

Whatever Hermione was going to say to him, Harry didn't find out.

**TBC ...**

* * *

**AN:** The good news is, the next chapter just needs a couple of tweaks and it'll be ready to post!


	16. The Worst Memory

**Chapter Sixteen: The Worst Memory**

The next day was the first Hogsmeade weekend of term. Most of the sixth-years were going; Harry was particularly looking forward to the break. Hermione, however, had other ideas.

"I think it would be a really good opportunity for all the DA to get together," she said. Since Dumbledore's Army had become an official club, the membership had more than doubled and Harry had been forced to split it into two groups so every member could get individual attention. "Most of the newcomers don't know who else is in it; it would be useful for everyone to be familiar with who else is able to fight when the time comes. We should come up with an actual battle plan together, so if Voldemort decided to attack Hogwarts tomorrow we're already prepared."

Ron and Harry stared at her. "Think it's likely he'll attack tomorrow?"

"Well, no, but we should be prepared. He's bound to try and bring down Hogwarts eventually, and a solid, co-ordinated student army is bound to give us an advantage."

It was the last thing Harry wanted to think about on his weekend, but he agreed, and passed on the message to meet at the Three Broomsticks, after which a second message was passed out changing it to the Hog's Head as Hermione pointed out that it would be less busy, so there would be more room to cram sixty pupils in.

"I'm not sure about this battle plan now," Harry said to Hermione. "I mean, as much as we all need to be prepared, I don't want to scare off the first and second-years. They joined up in the hope of, at best, defending their families if they have to, at worst to meet a celebrity. We start talking about going into battle with Voldemort personally …"

"Bear in mind, Harry, you were eleven when you willingly faced him over the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione said. "Don't under-estimate eleven-year-olds."

"Yes, and I also faced him as a toddler. Would you encourage a one-year-old to face Voldemort?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I know, it's more personal for you than anyone. But lots of the younger ones have lost family members to him, and the ones that haven't are afraid they will. That's pretty powerful motivation. I agree we should be tactful about how we approach the subject, give anyone a chance to say if they don't want to be part of it, but I'm positive they'll surprise you."

"Well, maybe you could approach the subject?" Harry requested. "Since you've obviously thought more about it than I have."

Hermione sighed. "Fine, I will."

"Nice plan," Ron said. "But I think you're forgetting something."

"What?"

"First and second-years aren't allowed in Hogsmeade, remember?"

There was a long pause. "Oh," said Hermione, going red. "Well, um, we'll just have to arrange this in Hogwarts then. It's not fair to leave them out."

"Couldn't we sneak them out?" Ron suggested. "Through one of the passages?"

"Ronald Weasley!"

"What?"

"The rule was put in place for a good reason, and you know it. Even if I didn't disagree on principle, we would all be in huge trouble if we got caught."

"So it would be like the old days." Ron shrugged. "Come on, give them a bit of excitement, show them what it used to be like."

"Absolutely not."

"Well then, what do we do? It'd be good if we could get together out of school for once. Harry, what do you think?"

Harry looked from one determined friend to another. "I don't know. I'm not sure it's a good idea, Ron."

"Well … maybe we could get special permission," Ron said. "Think you could ask Dumbledore, Harry?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Hermione muttered.

"What? If anybody can—"

"I'll ask," Harry spoke over him. "But if he says no and we sneak them in, he'll never speak to me again."

"All right, fine," Ron said. "_We_ won't sneak them in."

* * *

"Come in."

Albus was busy at his desk as Harry entered. Fawkes trilled a greeting, flew over and settled on his shoulder as usual. Albus put down his quill and looked up. "What can I do for you, Harry?"

"Um, I was hoping to ask for a favour," Harry said hesitantly. Albus just continued to look at him, his eyes twinkling but quizzical. "It's about the DA."

"Not a problem, I hope?"

"Well, no, it's just—we thought it would be nice to all get together on the Hogsmeade weekend, get to know each other a bit better, especially as we're in groups now. Also I think Hermione wanted an opportunity to discuss strategy … things."

"Aren't some of your members below third year?" Albus said.

"Well … yes. That's … the issue. Would it be possible to allow them to come too?"

Albus sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I wish it was." Harry's heart sank. "But do you think there is time between now and the weekend for seventeen forms to be sent out, signed and sent back? Students in term time are the school's responsibility; I cannot let students without permission forms out of Hogwarts grounds except in emergencies, as you no doubt remember from your third year."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Say the word now and I can send them off for the next Hogsmeade weekend, but not this one—and of course, there is no guarantee all the parents will sign. Considering how young they are, I doubt any will. I'm sorry, Harry."

* * *

"Well, he's got a point," Hermione admitted later.

"Hours ago you were talking about discussing battle plans with eleven-year-olds," Ron reminded her.

"Well, the younger ones will obviously be less experienced, so we know to keep them as much out of the way as possible. Perhaps this is for the best: some of the more eager ones might want different."

"You mean, we should plan it without them?" Harry asked.

"Well, at least get the most of it worked out," Hermione said. "We can do that tomorrow. And we can organise a social get-together for every member later."

The day arrived. Harry woke to find Ron's bed empty, and a note to say he had woken early and would see him at the Hog's Head. After meeting Hermione in the common room, the two journeyed down to the village together.

The grubby pub was absolutely packed. Harry was relieved he had thought to hire the place for the day; there was no room for anyone else other than the barman, who was in the Order so should be trustworthy. All the same, he was happier that the guy seemed to disappear after putting out his entire stock of Butterbeers.

Harry was also pleased to see that Fred and George, accompanied by other DA members that had left the previous year, turned up as well. The more contact between the DA and the Order, the better.

"Does your mum know you're here?" Harry said with a grin.

"Nope," Fred replied.

"But we felt we should keep our channels of communication between the old crowd and the new crowd as wide as possible," said George.

"Yeah, so does Hermione. Or she wouldn't have sent the meeting info to our coins."

"I hope it's all right that we're here, Harry," Alicia Spinnet said. "Only, if Hogwarts is ever attacked, we want to be able to defend it even though we don't go here anymore."

"No, it's brilliant you're here," said Harry. "I just didn't realise you all would be. Thanks for coming."

"I'm getting a kind of déjà vu; aren't you, Ange?" Fred turned to Angelina.

Harry looked around the room, trying to make everyone out. "Has anyone seen Ron?"

"No," George replied. "Figured he'd be coming with you two."

As he spoke, the pub door opened again and Harry saw a flash of red hair. "Wow, it's busy here!"

"Where've you—" Harry began, but faltered as the people behind Ron started pushing their way in. "You have _got_ to be joking."

"Look, I thought they should be here, alri—_ow!_" Hermione had appeared before the crowd of first- and second-years and gripped Ron by the ear.

"Dumbledore _specifically_ said no, and you go and risk not only our necks, but Harry's friendship?" He yelled more as she shook him. "You are impossible, Ronald, and if we get caught we will make sure to say it was you and only you."

"O—K—Point—ow—taken," Ron gasped. "But—you know—since they're here now …"

Hermione grudgingly let him go and he scrambled as far away as possible. "We may as well have the meeting now we're all here," she said. "Harry?"

Silence fell in the pub, and Harry swallowed, suddenly almost as nervous as he had been at the first ever meeting. "Uh, thanks for coming," he said, addressing everyone together. "I think introductions first. This lot were in the DA last year—"

"Are you the Weasley twins?" one of the first-years interrupted in an awed voice.

Fred and George both grinned and mock-bowed. "We certainly are."

"Of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" another first-year said.

"With the fireworks?"

"And the Skiving Snackboxes?"

"I'm not sure this is really the time—" Hermione began.

"I think it is," Harry said. "The point of this was to know each other a bit better, and Fred and George's inventions can come in handy for more than pranking your peers or skiving off classes."

"True," George said. "We've been working on a range of things to help in these dark times."

"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."

"Decoy Detonators."

"Extendable Ears."

"Shield Hats."

"Wand Wings."

"What on earth are Wand Wings?" Ron asked.

"We're launching them next month. Limited sale, of course," Fred added. "We can't go letting Death Eaters get hold of them. They become invisible once you put them on as well, so they won't know what you're doing."

"You strap them round your wrist," George said. "And when you get disarmed, your wand flies back into your hand."

There was a general murmur of "Wow" from the younger crowd. Even Hermione looked impressed.

A cold shiver ran down Harry's back and he shook it off, putting it down to the still-open door, but a moment later a sickening feeling came to his stomach.

"Hermione," he hissed, not wanting to cause a panic. "Can you feel that?"

She looked puzzled for a moment, but as the chill intensified comprehension dawned. The pub quietened.

"Why's it so cold?" one of the first-years piped up.

Harry's stomach dropped further. Of all the days to sneak seventeen kids out of the castle! He would strangle Ron later. For the moment, he pulled out his wand. If there were Dementors here, there must be—

Crashing sounds could be heard next door, followed by screams.

Death Eaters.

The pub door blew off its hinges.

"Get down!"

Harry grabbed the two nearest first-years by the scruff of the neck and pulled them to the ground as a spell whizzed past him. He felt Hermione stand and shoot a spell back, and judging by the flump of body on floor it met its target.

"All those who can do Patronuses, follow me!" Harry called to the crowd, and a bunch of last year's DA members followed as he pushed his way into the street.

There was only one other Death Eater that they could see; Harry Stunned him as he exited a pulped Madam Pudifoot's. There was only the one Dementor, which turned towards Harry as he raised his wand. It was the first time Harry had come face to face with a Dementor since Sirius' death, but there was not much time for the Dementor to get a hold on his emotions.

Summoning an image of Voldemort defeated, Harry cried "Expecto patronum!" and the others followed his lead. A menagerie of silvery creatures, lead not by a stag but by something else familiar, stormed the Dementor and sent it on its way.

Harry's Patronus was the last to disappear. The big dog barked at him before fading like the others. Suddenly Harry's legs felt wobbly, and they buckled. He did not remember hitting the floor as he was engulfed in horror he had never felt before in his life.

* * *

"Are you sure there was only one Dementor there, Mr Weasley?" Albus pressed.

"_Yes_, Professor," Ron replied for the third time. "We told you, we fought it off together and then Harry just collapsed. We couldn't revive him, it's never been this bad before, not even when there were hundreds of them."

Harry was still out cold; he was unconscious but shaking, his body like ice and doused in cold sweat. His breathing was irregular, interspersed with small moans. Hermione sat by him, clutching his frozen hand, while Ron paced anxiously trying to answer a hundred questions.

Before anyone else could speak, Fawkes appeared in a flash and settled on the bed next to Harry. Hermione reached out to stroke him with her free hand, but he shook her off and trilled soothingly. After a moment, Harry seemed to calm; he stopped shaking and moaning, and just lay there.

Madam Pomfrey returned with hot chocolate and a sleeping potion, which she tipped down Harry's throat one at a time before shooing the others away.

"Professor," Ron said as he and Hermione walked with Albus in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "About the first and second-years …"

"That matter can be dealt with when Harry is recovered," Albus said.

Ron squirmed. "It doesn't have to be. He and Hermione didn't have anything to do with sneaking them out; it was my idea and I went behind their backs when they didn't agree to it. I'm sorry, Professor."

Albus didn't speak for a moment, and Ron could barely breathe.

"You do realise, Mr Weasley, that had any of them been hurt today that you would be the one responsible for it."

"Yes, sir."

"One of them could have been killed—or worse."

"Yes, sir."

"Professor McGonagall and I will discuss your punishment later," Albus said as they drew up to the Fat Lady. "For the time being, go to your dormitory and stay there until I come and collect you tomorrow morning."

Ron hung his head. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Harry was still asleep when they arrived the next morning. During the night he had warmed up, but his sleep didn't look restful.

"Where am I?" were the first words out of his mouth when he woke.

"You're in the Hospital Wing, mate." Ron forced a grin as Harry turned to look at him. "Gave us a bit of a scare there."

"I don't—understand—what happened? Where was I?"

"In Hogsmeade, remember?" Hermione said.

"Where else?"

"You've only been there and here, Harry," Albus said from the end of the bed. "You collapsed in Hogsmeade and were brought straight here; you haven't been anywhere else."

Harry shook his head violently. "No, no. That's not—that can't be right."

"Why?" Albus asked. "Where do you think you were?"

Harry closed his eyes and shuddered. "Azkaban."

**TBC ...**


	17. Echoes of Padfoot

**Chapter Seventeen: Echoes of Padfoot**

Confined to the common room, Ron waited for his Headmaster and Head of House to make up their minds about his punishment. He was on his own; Madam Pomfrey was insisting on keeping Harry in at least another twenty-four hours, and Hermione was spending most of her time with him. So was Ginny, so he didn't even have his sister to talk to. He tried—and failed—to do some coursework, and went to bed early, surprised the next morning at how well he'd slept. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be going to class, or staying where he was; unsure what to do, he was distracted when Hermione entered the common room at breakfast time, still in her clothes from the day before yesterday and looking worried.

"Ron, Harry's disappeared. He's not here, is he?"

"No. What do you mean, disappeared? I thought he was in the Hospital Wing."

"He left before I woke up. Madam Pomfrey wasn't happy. He'd just gone. I'm scared; you saw the look in his eyes when he woke up."

Ron nodded. "Where do you think he went?"

"I don't know. Is the map still in your room?"

They fetched the map. Hermione spotted a moving dot labelled with Harry's name. "Look, there he is. Where's he going?"

"I don't know. You'd better get after him."

Hermione took his arm and began pulling him towards the portrait hole.

"Me? Hermione, I'm grounded, remember, till Dumbledore and McGonagall tell me otherwise?"

"I'm sure they'll appreciate this is urgent; if Harry's in a state then it might take both of us to reason with him. Come on."

They found him at last, on the top of the Astronomy Tower, gazing unseeingly out at the grounds, his hair and clothes whipped by the wind. Why Harry was here, Ron could not fathom. If he was cold, being up here could hardly help.

"Harry, you okay?"

No answer. Ron looked sideways at Hermione, who shot him one of her looks.

"He looks like he wants to be alone," Ron murmured. "I don't blame him, if I'd had a taste of Azkaban—"

"Harry was _not_ in Azkaban, Ron," Hermione sighed. "You know that perfectly well, he was with us the whole time."

"He managed to describe it just like my dad did," Ron argued.

"For goodness' sake." Hermione ignored Ron and stepped forward herself. "Harry? What are you doing up here?"

"Thinking," Harry replied quietly.

"Yes, but why here?"

"I don't know," Harry whispered. "It seemed like the right place to be."

Hermione looked back at Ron, who shrugged.

"Harry, come on down. You really shouldn't be out in the cold like this." Hermione moved forwards again, almost nervously, and gently took Harry's hand in hers. "Please don't dwell on it, Harry. If it was really anything to worry about, Dumbledore would have said—"

"He couldn't explain it," Harry said firmly. "he admitted only the one theory made sense, that I was Seeing—"

"That doesn't mean it's right." Hermione pulled at his hand. "Come on, come downstairs."

"The last time a Dementor came anywhere near me, I heard my mother," Harry said, rounding on her. "That's always been the case, Hermione, you know it has. Tell me this; if the memory of the night my parents died is the worst I have, why was I not reliving it in Az—"

"Harry, you were _not_ in Azkaban!" Hermione repeated shrilly. "I don't know what happened with that Dementor but you're scaring yourself, convincing yourself that you were there when you were not—"

"What could possibly happen to me, Hermione, that's so bad it replaces my worst memory?" Harry demanded, trembling now. "What could be worse than my parents dying, than Sirius dying, than Voldemort torturing me with visions of cruelty for months on end? What could possibly make all of that pale in comparison?"

"I don't know, Harry, but please, stop it!" Hermione begged.

Harry seemed to have realised now that he was scaring her, and bit his lip to stop more thoughts pouring out. Ron unfroze and moved forwards swiftly to put his cloak round Harry's shoulders, and gently urged him away from the turrets.

"Come on mate, come back to the common room."

Harry slumped, as if all the energy had been drained out of him again. "Yeah, 'kay."

He remained silent for the rest of the day, in the common room with Ron while Hermione went to class very late, until the teachers found them. Harry was given a reprimanding and full examination by Madam Pomfrey, while Ron was told to go to classes and then go to Professor McGonagall's office after his last one.

* * *

After his examination, Madam Pomfrey reluctantly declared Harry was free to leave the Hospital Wing, but advised him to take it easy for a day or two. Harry headed back to the common room, where he waited for the classes to end so he could see his friends again.

Ginny was the first through the portrait hole.

"Hi," she said, sitting down next to him and eliciting an involuntary grin from him. "Feeling better?"

"Sort of."

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, not asking any more questions. Harry was grateful. He wasn't entirely sure how he could try and put into words the confusion and fear currently whirling round his mind.

"Do you want to talk?" Ginny said finally. "Not about what happened, if you don't want to. Just something."

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Just something mundane. Mundane by Dumbledore's definition, that is, not ours." Harry chuckled. "Oh, I know. How about things we don't know about each other yet?"

"Such as?"

"Well ... what's your favourite colour?"

Harry considered. "Not sure. Red, maybe. And blue, that really deep midnight blue, that's nice. What's yours?"

"Green."

"Really?"

"Yeah. it has to be the right shade, though; quite a ... bright green. Not Slytherin green."

"Noted."

"Your turn to think of a question."

"Okay ... what's your favourite food?"

"Uh, hmm ... pumpkin pasties. Don't tell Mum. You?"

"Shepherd's pie. Though I have a weakness for Chinese food. I don't get to have it very often."

"Chinese food? I don't think I've ever had that."

"Really?"

"No. What's it like?"

"Tell you what, I'll make you some sometime," Harry said.

"Can you cook?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, you'll just have to cook me some Chinese food sometime."

"It's a deal."

They were giggling together, Harry's spirits starting to lift, when Hermione entered the common room. She smiled that infuriating smile and headed over to her homework stack rather than disturb them.

"So, what did I miss from school life while I was in the torture chamber?"

"Sorry?"

"Hospital Wing," Harry explained.

"Oh!" Ginny sniggered. "Does Madam Pomfrey know you call it that?"

"Well, I've never mentioned it to her. She might put bed bugs in my usual mattress."

"That's a fair point. Well, it wasn't that eventful. Though I heard from Susan that Zach had another accident, in Potions this time. He's really accident-prone, isn't he?"

Harry frowned slightly. "Yeah."

They continued discussing mundane topics until Ron came back. He looked pale and shocked, and stooped slightly in shame. Harry, Ginny and Hermione all jumped up.

"Hi," Ron said.

"Well?" Hermione was the first to ask.

Ron took a deep breath. "I'm leaving Hogwarts."

"You're expelled?"

Ron shook his head. "No. Suspended. Till Christmas. And I've got detention with McGonagall twice a week after that till the end of the year, with all my privileges revoked till Easter. Also Mum's going to kill me. Her and Dad are on their way to pick me up now, I've got to pack and say goodbye. And it's going on my permanent record. I think I got off lightly, to tell the truth, I deserve expulsion. It was a stupid thing to do, I could have got someone killed."

There was an awkward pause; whilst not wanting to agree with him, they all knew he was right. Ginny stepped out first and hugged him.

Harry and Hermione waited a minute before joining in a four-way embrace.

"If Mum does kill you," Ginny said, "can I have your room?"

"Gin!"

"Sorry, just wanted to lighten things a bit."

Ron packed his trunk up in sombre silence, before saying his goodbyes and leaving the common room, heading back to Professor McGonagall's office.

* * *

"Come in."

Harry pushed open the door, and Remus looked up, then smiled widely as he saw who it was. "Harry! What a pleasant surprise, I've barely seen you since I came back. Come in, come in!"

"How are you, professor?" Harry said, closing the door behind him.

"Oh, please, as I'm not teaching you you may as well continue calling me Remus." He pushed aside a pile of essays and reached for the kettle. "Tea?"

"Yes, please. Remus."

"How are you doing?" Remus asked as he busied himself making the tea. "I heard about the Hogsmeade incident; are you all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not entirely truthfully. To be honest he was just trying not to think about it anymore. "Madam Pomfrey let me go."

Remus raised an eyebrow, not fooled. "Harry."

"All right, maybe not brilliant," Harry mumbled. "But I'll be fine."

"Was there a particular reason for your visit now?" Remus asked, giving Harry his tea. "Did you want to talk about the Dementors?"

"Thanks. And, no, not really. It was something else ..." Harry wondered how to phrase the query. "I wanted to talk to you about my Patronus."

"What about it?"

"It's changed."

Remus stared at him. "That's unusual. You noticed this in Hogsmeade the other day?"

"Yeah."

"What is it now?"

"It's Sirius. I mean, Padfoot. His Animagus form. Is that ... I mean ... is that normal?"

"Well ..." Remus considered. "I wouldn't say normal, but I wouldn't think it's anything to worry about. It's a reaction to your grief, I expect. You miss Sirius."

"Yeah, I do."

"Your Patronus is merely a reflection of that."

"So, will it change back to Prongs?"

"I don't know," Remus said honestly. "But like I said, it's nothing to worry about."

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the middle of the room, summoning the thought of Voldemort defeated. "_Expecto patronum_."

The silvery dog poured from the wand and turned round to face them. Harry and Remus sat and watched in sombre silence as Padfoot paced the room a couple of times, wagged his tail, barked and finally, no Dementors to protect against, faded away to nothing.

For a moment neither man said anything. Then Harry spoke again.

"Remus, do you have any photos of Sirius? I only have one, from my parents' wedding. Apart from the ones from last Christmas, anyway."

The question startled Remus out of his reverie. "Oh—yes, I do. Hold on a moment, I'll go and get them."

He returned with a photo album. "I've got a couple of others as well. Do you want to take it with you to look at?"

"Yes, please. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Harry. Feel free to take copies of any you want to keep."

* * *

Albus was knee-deep in paperwork, and hoping for an excuse to take a break. Minerva was busy with her own work, and unable to provide a distraction; and his conscience would not allow him to just _stop_ without a reason, despite the growing migraine.

So it was with great relief he heard the sound of footsteps on his staircase. The relief was short-lived, however; the fast pounding implied something urgent, and something urgent implied bad news. He groaned, resisting the urge to sweep all his papers off his desk in frustration, and plastered a patient expression on his face just as someone rapped on the door and then, without waiting for an answer, pushed it open.

"Severus," Albus said, trying to project calmness into his voice and to his own ears failing miserably. "What is it?"

"Albus," Severus gasped. "One of the students has been Imperioused."

* * *

Harry was awake late that night, flicking through the albums Remus had given him. There was loads of photos of all the Marauders, and there were a few of his parents together, but tonight he wanted to focus on Sirius, making a note to go back later and check for any featuring James and Lily that he didn't have.

He turned another page, one on from a group photo of all four Marauders, and paused, stunned.

In the photo was Lily and Sirius, alone under a tree by the lake. Lily was sitting on Sirius' lap. As Harry watched his mother and godfather together, she tucked her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her.

A memory jumped into his head: _As he watched, Lily turned to the figure and they began to kiss … the figure's face come into light. "Sirius?"_

**TBC …**


	18. Ronless

**Chapter Eighteen: Ronless**

Harry returned to Remus' office, photo album under one arm. He had been unable to sleep properly, his mind too occupied—every time he closed his eyes, images of his mother and godfather together sprang into his head. He thought it was morning, though he didn't know the time and didn't care.

It took a while for Remus to answer. Finally his door opened, and he stood there in a dressing-gown and bed hair. "Harry? It's five-thirty, what's wrong?" His voice had started to sound panicked by the last word.

"I'm okay," Harry quickly assured him. "I just wanted to say … thanks for the photos."

Remus rubbed his eyes. "You woke me up for that?"

"Well …" Harry hesitated.

"Is something the matter?"

Harry opened the album at the appropriate page. Remus looked, and said, "Ah. I forgot they were in there."

"Can you explain them?"

Remus took a deep breath. "You'd better come in, Harry." He held the door open for him. "Sit down. Have some tea. Or coffee might be more appropriate …"

Remus seemed to be playing for time while he fiddled with the kettle, trying to think how he was going to do this. Eventually he sat down with two cups of coffee, stifling a yawn. Harry took his but didn't drink anything, too wired up.

"Okay." Remus scratched his ear thoughtfully. "You already know that your mum and dad, they started dating in seventh year."

"Yeah."

"Yes. Well, the truth is, it didn't last very long, then. A couple of months, I think."

"They broke up? Why?"

"I can't even remember; something trivial that got blown out of proportion. But it ended their relationship, and after a while Lily started going out with Sirius."

There was a long pause while Harry digested this.

"It was the only time he and James ever fought," Remus said thoughtfully. "They had a _huge_ fight when James found out Sirius had asked Lily out. There was curses involved and everything. If Professor McGonagall hadn't put a quick stop to it, it could have turned quite nasty. They did make up later, though, and stayed friends while Sirius and Lily were together."

"Mum and Sirius," Harry muttered.

"Your mum was a popular girl, Harry," Remus said gently. "It's probably not something anyone wants to think about, but she did go out with boys besides your dad."

"I'd never really thought about it," Harry said. "Not sure I want to either."

"Well if it helps, apart from a couple of dates with some Hufflepuff I didn't know in fourth year, your dad and Sirius were the only ones."

"_Sirius_, though. He just seems … not her type."

"No, well, I can't speak for the others but it certainly took me by surprise," Remus said with a small smile. "I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but she was actually very good for him—he wasn't half as immature when they were together. Of course, after they broke up it was another story …"

"How long were they together?"

"Quite a long time, actually. We all left school with them still an item. In actual fact, they got engaged just afterwards."

"_Engaged?_ Really?"

"Yes. He and James had long made up by then; he was going to be best man, it was all planned. Lily and Sirius seemed very happy together as far as I could see."

"So what happened?"

"I went abroad on an Order mission for six months," Remus said. "And to this day I have no idea what took place while I was away, but when I returned, your mum and dad were happy newlyweds and Sirius seemed fine with it. None of them ever talked about what happened, and I decided not to pry."

"Huh." Harry thought. "That's so weird. I came so close to being a Black. Or not being born at all."

Later he wondered if that had been the big secret Albus was going to tell him. It would explain why he'd thought right after Sirius' death was not the best time; however, Harry didn't think it was. Although the story was a little strange, Harry didn't think it was worth the suspense and expectation Albus had built up surrounding it. He'd made it sound like something Harry wouldn't be able to handle; well, as strange as it was, he could handle this. His mum dating his godfather? Yeah, he could handle that.

* * *

Suspensions were almost as rare at Hogwarts as expulsions, but Ron's disappearance from the school was less newsworthy than it should have been. Instead, the story of Justin Finch-Fletchney being Imperiosed was the story of the week.

After a few days, Justin resumed normal school routine, and refused to talk about the incident, though he tended to wander round in shock. Rumours of how and why flitted from student to student, but Harry heard it from the horse's mouth.

"In confidence, Harry," Albus said firmly. "We don't want this spread around the school."

"You can trust me, Albus."

"Justin—under Imperious—tried to kill Zacharias Smith."

Harry gasped. "_What?_"

"I know. He tried three times before Severus caught him sabotaging his cauldron. The Order's been informed, and Zacharius is being given the same protection that you are."

"But ... why Zach?" Harry said, puzzled. "I mean, yeah, most of us have wanted to hit him at some point, but kill him? Why would Voldemort want Zach dead?"

"At the moment, we don't know," Albus said. "Professor Snape has not reported any information that might give us a clue as to why; if Voldemort is indeed behind this, it's a top-secret assignment that he's not in the know of."

"What if he's targeting DA members?" Harry said, a stone seeming to drop into his stomach at the thought. What if Ginny or Luna or Neville was next?

"I don't think it is likely, although I think you ought to warn your members to take care. If anyone else becomes accident-prone, or starts acting strange, report it to me at once. As it happens, Zacharias' father, Horatio Smith, was one of the first disappearances just after Voldemort returned. We have to conclude the two are not mutually exclusive. His mother is being given round the clock Order protection as well."

"What about other relatives?"

"She is his only relative."

"Oh." Harry thought. "Poor Zach. And poor Justin. I can't imagine what it must be like to be made to try and kill your friend."

"As I said, Harry, this is all in confidence. I'm sure all the parties involved would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. And while I know you trust your friends ..."

"You'd rather I didn't tell them any of this?"

"I think it's for the best. We have to think how Zacharius and Justin would feel if they knew they knew."

"Okay, fair point. I'll keep it to myself."

* * *

Life without Ron was strange, bordering on depressing. Harry was unpleasantly reminded of the time in fourth year when they'd stopped speaking. He had hoped that they could write to each other while Ron was at home, but no such luck—the first letter arrived the day after his suspension began.

_Dear Harry and Hermione,_

_Ron here. This is the first and only letter I'm allowed to send, to explain that Mum and Dad have banned me from writing, so you won't hear any more from me till Christmas. You needn't bother sending a reply, because they'll confiscate it._

_I thought Mum would scream at me till my ears bled, but instead they're both giving me the silent treatment, which is worse. They're taking it in turns to go to meetings so I'm being permanently babysat. I've been banned from pretty much everything I enjoy, so no Quidditch. I suppose I shouldn't complain._

_Anyway, don't worry about me, the school's given me plenty of homework to keep me busy and I'm counting down the days till the holidays._

_Harry, as a favour, could you keep a watch out for Ginny? Goodness knows what she would get up to with no big brother to look out for her._

_And Hermione—watch out for Harry, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid while I'm gone._

_And you'd better both spend Christmas with me, or I'll never forgive you!_

_Love, Ron_

What made it more bearable than the fourth year silence was the knowledge that Ron wasn't mad at him, and would be back eventually. In the meantime, Hermione was company, as was Ginny, whom Harry had been spending more and more time with outside Occlumency lessons.

On the way back to Gryffindor Tower from their next lesson, Ginny said, "So, when are you going to cook for me?"

"You just want me to be bad so you can tease me, don't you?" Harry said with a grin.

"Nope, I really am interested."

Harry considered. "Well, how about later tonight? Dinner time, at the Room of Requirement. Don't be late."

It had seemed so simple, until Harry arrived at the Room of Requirement. When the door appeared and he entered, he was surprised to find a kitchen inside—_only_ a kitchen. No table, no chairs, nowhere to dine.

Still, there was plenty of room for them. Harry figured the Room was just making sure he had enough space to move around … yeah, that had to be it. Once he'd finished cooking and Ginny turned up, the Room would provide the rest.

So he began. The Room had provided all the utensils, and he had persuaded (with no difficulty at all) the house-elves to part with the relevant ingredients, and Dobby had been happy to get Harry what they didn't have. Harry began preparing sauce, wondering why his nerves were so … well, nervous. He was just cooking for a friend, what was the matter with him?

Once he'd done all the preparation and put the ingredients in the wok, Ginny turned up. "Wow, Harry, it smells delicious in here."

"Sit down, my lady, make yourself at home," Harry said, pulling out a chair that had miraculously appeared. "Dinner will be served momentarily."

"I can't wait. Harry? What are these sticks?"

"They're chopsticks. You said you wanted to sample some Chinese food, that's what they eat with in China."

"How?"

"I'll show you, just give me a second. Purebloods, you're so uncultured."

Ginny giggled. Harry finished cooking the meal, sure that the room seemed to be getting darker. As he turned around to dish up, he realised why.

For some reason, the Room had seen fit to extinguish all lights except the elegant candelabra on the dining table, which had deep red rose petals scattered between the place settings. Maybe it had only just started, but Harry could have sworn he could hear a harp or something playing somewhere, though he couldn't see where. From the harp's perspective, that was probably a good thing.

Harry felt himself blush heavily and he avoided Ginny's eyes as he put dinner on the table. "Um, I didn't request any of this, I swear. I just asked for somewhere to cook and serve dinner—I have no control over how the Room chose to interpret the request."

"Harry, it's fine," Ginny said, and he dared glance at her. She was smiling, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "It's nice. And anyway, it's your cooking that counts, isn't it?"

His embarrassment faded as they enjoyed the meal; Ginny complemented his work, enjoying the new tastes, and the two of them had giggle fits over the way she used her chopsticks. At one point, without thinking, Harry tried to show her by taking her chopsticks and feeding her a mouthful; she then tried to do the same, so he ended up with sweet and sour sauce down his clothes as well. In hindsight, he categorised it as a civilised food fight. Not the sort of thing that should happen on a date.

Not that it was a date. Of course it wasn't. It was only the Room of Requirement that thought that. No, he and Ginny were just friends, of that he was pretty sure. How he felt about that, he was less sure of.

All the same, he'd been leaving his … encounters … with Ginny out of the diary.

Harry had been compiling a list/diary of interesting things that were happening in the school. Not that he could send it to Ron for fear of it getting confiscated by Molly Weasley and his friend getting into trouble, but as something he could give to Ron to read when he saw him next to catch him up on what had been going on.

The entries read something like:

_Monday_

_DA meeting goes well, two more first-years sign up, both Gryffindors. Flitwick's birthday, though he won't tell anyone how old he is._

_Tuesday_

_Malfoy broke his toe trying to trip up a Hufflepuff—she kicked his foot onto a gargoyle's. Was tempted to ask her autograph. Flitwick came to class late still wearing a party hat and confused by left and right._

_Wednesday_

_A bunch of first-year Ravenclaws got caught trying to smuggle salamanders into their dormitory. I got an 'exploding cough' (as described by my neighbours) in Potions and had to borrow Snape's glass of water—not my finest hour. Still, could have been worse._

And so on.

**TBC …**


	19. What Makes a Family

**AN:** This chapter turned out a bit longer than I had planned. But I think you will agree, it was the best place to end it.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: What Makes a Family**

Time was passing fairly uneventfully; Harry was often stumped for what to write in the diary and had to ask around for stories.

"Anything interesting today, Hermione?" he said, sitting next to her in the common room.

She sighed. "Not particularly. What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Nothing," he lied, peering at her homework for a change of subject. "Is that Ancient Runes?"

"Potions," she corrected.

"That's a rune, isn't it?"

"It's the Mortrune. The Elixir of Death ring a bell?"

"Nope. I've heard of the Elixir of Life."

Hermione sighed. "The Mortrune is inscribed on stone during the ritual that creates the Elixir of Death. Which you would know if you'd done your homework."

The weather was growing colder and the Christmas holidays were drawing nearer. Harry wasn't sure what to do about that. Albus usually spent Christmas at the school, and while he wanted to spend time with the Weasleys, especially Ron since he hadn't seen him in a while, he also wanted to spend time with Albus. On the other hand, he was reluctant to force himself on the man, especially as it would be his first Christmas with his wife. No doubt Albus and Minerva would want a quiet Christmas together.

Still, however Harry spent his holiday, he knew he had a couple of extra people to buy for this Christmas. There was no pre-Christmas Hogsmeade visit, of which he was not surprised, but it didn't take long to find an owl-post service that sold what he wanted. Deciding where to go, that would be harder.

Shortly before the sign-up list started circulating, Albus kept Harry back after Defence to discuss the matter.

"Before you say anything," he said, "I want you to know that Minerva and I have discussed it and we would love you to stay with us for the holidays."

Harry hesitated, slightly stunned. His indecision must have shown, for after a moment Albus continued, "We understand if you'd rather not spend all Christmas with your teachers … and as I understand it, the Weasleys have already requested your presence … however, if you would like, there is a room here with your name on it. So to speak."

"Here as in Hogwarts?" Harry queried.

"Here as in, our private rooms. Although we are thinking of spending a few days at my house; there's a room there for you too, if you want it. It's entirely up to you, Harry. We'll be delighted if you say yes, but we won't be offended if you decline."

Harry didn't know what to say. "I … I'd love to … Are you sure I won't be—you know—in the way? I know this is your first Christmas together—"

"You won't be in the way, Harry," Albus said firmly.

"I … I don't know … I mean, I'd like to spend _some_ time with the Weasleys, and Ron said he'd never forgive me if I didn't spend Christmas with him, but …"

"Hmm …" Albus' gaze drifted towards the window. "Why don't I have a word with Molly and Arthur, see if we can work something out? Give me a day or so."

* * *

The arrangement in the end, agreed by both families, was for Albus, Minerva and Harry to all be invited to the Burrow for a few days surrounding Christmas. Harry was certainly happy with the compromise, and from what he heard all other parties were looking forward to it. How the Weasleys were going to squash another couple into their house was beyond him, but he supposed if there was no room, the idea would have been no more than an idle thought.

The end of term came, and none too soon. Harry packed only some of his possessions—making sure he had his diary for Ron—wished his dorm-mates a merry Christmas and made his way to Albus and Minerva's quarters.

He was feeling very nervous at the prospect of spending the entire holidays so close to them. Albus he had got used to seeing on an informal, daily basis. Minerva was a bit of an unknown quantity still.

She was the one to let him in. "Albus is overseeing the train security," she said, smiling as she beckoned him inside the living-room. "He won't be long. Do you want to unpack?"

Their quarters, once Harry had seen further than the living-room, turned out to be pretty big—practically the size of a house, and spread over two floors. The living-room led off to each of their private offices—quite a feat, Harry considered, as they were in separate wings of the castle; but then, this _was_ Hogwarts—and on the same floor was the kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom and library. A spiral staircase in the library led to the spare room, the door of which had a brand-new plaque on it saying _Harry's room_. A lump arose in Harry's throat when he saw it and he couldn't speak for several minutes.

Minerva helped him carry his things upstairs and left him to unpack in peace. The room was a comfortable size, not too big, with a large window viewing the lake. Besides a bed and wardrobe, Harry had a set of bookshelves and an en-suite shower.

It didn't take him long to unpack, as all he had brought was a few changes of clothing, his current homework, presents, Firebolt, Map, Cloak and diary for Ron. He checked the Map, saw that Minerva was in the kitchen, and sneaked down to the living-room to put the Christmas presents under the tree.

The living-room was almost fully decorated; golden stars hovered just above where Albus' head would reach, fake snow frosted the window-sill and mantelpiece, and a sparkly tinsel-like substance was strung across the ceiling. The only thing unfinished seemed to be the tree, which was still bare. Despite this, it had a cluster of brightly-wrapped presents underneath, and Harry carefully added his to the pile.

He sat down for a moment to watch the stars twinkle, and jumped as a _whoosh_ from the fireplace signified someone arriving. Harry's heart sank as Snape stepped out onto the hearth.

Great. The last person he wanted to run into on his Christmas holiday.

Snape looked as surprised to see Harry as Harry was disappointed to see him. "Potter? What on _earth_ are you doing in here? You do realise the Professors' private rooms are just that, _private_; no students allowed?" Before Harry could speak he added, "Oh no, of course, I forgot: the word 'private' does not appear in the Potter lexicon."

"Actually, Professor," Harry said as politely as he could muster, "I was invited. Did Albus not mention it?"

The strangest expression passed over Snape's face: a mixture of disgust, confusion and … was that alarm? A split second later, Snape's face was impassive again and Harry was sure he had imagined it.

"Where is the Headmaster?" Snape growled.

"Overseeing the train," Harry said. "Minerva's in the kitchen though if you want to talk to her."

"Never mind. I'll catch him at the station." Without a goodbye—not that Harry had been expecting one—Snape Flooed away.

Minerva entered just after he left. "Harry, who was that?"

"Snape—sorry, _Professor_ Snape. Looking for Albus; I told him where to find him." Harry saw Minerva was holding a pair of oven gloves. "Are you cooking?" he asked in surprise, starting to get up. "Do you want a hand?"

Despite her denial that he had to help, Minerva eventually gave into Harry's insistence and when Albus returned it was to find them working companionably, filling the kitchen with wonderful smells and deep in a humorous debate about Quidditch teams.

The Christmas tree, it turned out, had been left intentionally bare so as to give Harry an opportunity to join in with the decorating of it. Any thought of awkwardness was gone as they spent the evening making hangings together—Albus showed Harry how to create glittery bubbles with his wand and Minerva had him growing stalactites from the branches. Harry went to bed that night, after having been kissed goodnight by both parties, feeling more part of a family than he could ever remember.

* * *

The beginning of the holiday passed more than pleasantly. When not completing homework or paperwork, the small family spent their time playing games together and just talking. Harry and Albus tried teaming up to play Minerva at chess, but much to their embarrassment, she still won. Harry did, however, manage to defeat both his hosts at Exploding Snap, and Albus had the singed beard to prove it.

"I've always said you shouldn't play that game," Minerva said after extinguishing her husband for the third time.

"That," Albus said, wringing out his beard, "is beardist." Minerva rolled her eyes and Harry got the giggles.

"It is _not_, it's a fire hazard!"

"There is no rule that says people with facial hair cannot play Exploding Snap."

"Well …" Minerva paused. "At least cast a fire-proofing charm before you play next time."

Albus considered. "I suppose that is agreeable."

They both looked over at a still-sniggering Harry. "Something amusing, Mr Potter?"

"No," he said in the most innocent tone he could muster and changed the subject. "Anyone for Gobstones?"

* * *

Later that evening, the three were found in the living-room, curled up in front of the fire with hot chocolates. Minerva was lying back against Albus with his arm around her, and Harry surveyed them fondly. They really made a sweet couple. Meddling in their relationship had probably been the best thing he had ever done.

"I went to Diagon Alley," Albus said, "and I bought a cauldron, a broomstick, a pair of socks, a chocolate and raspberry ice cream, a Puffskein, a flying kettle, a dragon, toad legs, a Skiving Snackbox, a secret passage, a doorbell, and …" Albus paused for thought. "A gingerbread Hogwarts!"

Minerva groaned. "You should never have started this game with Albus," she said to Harry. "His memory is far too good."

"Your turn, Harry," Albus said cheerfully.

"I went to Diagon Alley and I bought … a cauldron, a broomstick, a … pair of socks, a chocolate ice cream—"

"And raspberry," Albus helpfully cut in.

"A chocolate _and raspberry_ ice cream, a Puffskein, a flying kettle, toad legs—"

"You missed out the dragon!"

Minerva gave Albus a playful slap on the arm. "Be quiet, you; let him get on with it."

Harry managed to reel off the others with no more mistakes and only a few pauses, and finished, "and … a partridge in a pear tree!"

Minerva and Albus chuckled. "Maybe we should start again," Minerva suggested. "The list is getting rather long."

"Funny you should say that now it's _your_ turn," Albus said, flinching as his wife dug her elbow into his ribs. "Ow!"

"Go on, Minerva," Harry said, grinning. "Your turn."

She glared at him, but recited quickly, "Cauldron, broomstick, socks, chocolate and raspberry ice cream, Puffskein, flying kettle, dragon, toad legs, Skiving Snackbox, secret passage, doorbell, gingerbread Hogwarts, partridge in a pear tree. And … map of Albania."

For some reason Albus gave her a funny look. "Map of …?" Then he frowned. "How did you—_Minerva!_"

"What?" she said, a little too innocently.

"You _cheat!_" Albus grabbed her arm and pulled the sleeve down. "You wrote them all down!"

"What!" Harry jumped up. "That's not allowed!"

"You never said it wasn't," Minerva said with a smile that reminded Harry of the Weasley twins, but she received a cushion in her face in response. "_Albus!_ You child!" She hit him back with another, and within seconds a fully fledged cushion-fight had broken out.

Harry wasn't sure whether or not to join in and just stood laughing while they chased each other round the sofa, but after Albus deliberately threw a cushion into his face he charged in. Minerva and Harry tackled Albus at the same time, causing him to fall over backwards with a yelp.

"Are you all right?" Minerva paused, one arm still raised with a cushion in it, face flushed and her hair a mess, looking anxiously down at her husband through crooked glasses.

"Ow. Think so. Just a little dented," Albus said with a chuckle.

"Oh well, in that case …"

After a few moments of being pummelled with both cushions, Albus, still in a fit of the giggles, called a time out and Harry helped him to his feet. "Thank you, my boy."

Something caught his eye on the floor, and Harry bent down to pick it up as Minerva checked to make sure Albus hadn't banged his head too hard. It was a locket without its chain, lying open.

Harry froze in surprise. He hadn't meant to look inside, but as he had picked it up he recognised the photos. One was a copy of Remus', featuring a teenage and carefree-looking Sirius—probably a couple of years older than Harry was now. The other photo was newer, of Harry around the age of eleven or twelve. He was sitting by the lake laughing, presumably with his friends who weren't in the frame; he didn't remember the photo being taken.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Isn't this Sirius?"

Albus' eyes fell on the locket in Harry's hands, and for some reason the atmosphere in the room turned awkward. Harry saw Minerva swallow, looking back and forth between them. Albus bit his lip.

"Sit down, Harry."

"I'm sorry," Harry said as he did so. "I didn't mean to see inside—it fell open—"

"I know," Albus assured him. "And you may as well know now."

"Know what?"

Albus looked pensive, and a short silence filled the room. "Sirius was … my son."

Harry stared at him, sure he had misheard. "What?"

"My son. I did tell you, a while ago, that I knew him when he was small …"

"Yeah," Harry said, the memory coming back to him. "You said you knew his—" he broke off, remembering Minerva, and glancing over at her.

"Don't worry, I know about Walburga," she quickly assured him.

"She and I were married," Albus said. Harry gaped at him. "A long time ago. She was a … different person when we met. But it was a total disaster and when Sirius was born, he got caught up in the middle of it. We finally divorced when he was about a year old, but …"

"But?"

"Well, then Walla remarried—Orion Black. After that, I was rather less welcome. She was determined to raise Sirius a Black and I interfered with those plans. I did try filing for custody, but in most cases the mother wins—unfortunate in that case.

She took the move personally, and from then on her and Orion did everything they could to come between me and Sirius. She even tried to turn him against me out of spite—and succeeded. One day I visited and he was hiding from me. To this day I don't know what she had told him, but she had scared him away from me. I tried, I did; but I was only allowed a couple of hours a week, and it just wasn't enough to convince him I wasn't some monster trying to trick him.

I tried appealing the custody decision with this as my argument, in the hope that it would show the kind of mother Walla was—but the Blacks must have known someone on the board, for all that came out of it was a loss of the visitation rights I did have.

Maybe I should have kept fighting. I don't know. But I realised then that Sirius was no longer my boy. I wasn't even sure if I would have been able to repair the damage if the appeal had been successful. I accepted that he would be raised a Black, and there was nothing I could do about it." Albus sighed heavily. "And I regretted the decision bitterly."

A huge lump had formed in Harry's throat through the story. Albus was staring unseeingly into the fire. Minerva had clasped his hand tightly.

"Did …" Harry hesitated. "Did he know?"

Albus slowly nodded. "He came across some old papers when clearing out Grimmauld Place. I think Walla must have burnt most things with my name on, but obviously something got missed. He asked me about it, and so I told him everything." There was a long pause. "He was still angry at me when he died."

* * *

Harry had a lot to think about that night. The mood of the evening had certainly been both ends of extreme—at first, overwhelmingly good, and then overwhelmingly bad.

He felt guilty at bringing up what was obviously such a painful subject, especially this time of year, but he reasoned, Albus didn't have to have told him. Harry had already known Albus had cared about Sirius; he could have just reminded him of that before taking the locket back, and that would have been that. But he had chosen to fill Harry in.

Suddenly, it was as if he was seeing the last few months a lot more clearly. Harry couldn't imagine what Albus must have been going through. Losing your child was no doubt bad enough, but Harry guessed it must be harder when no-one knows they're your child, and therefore can't understand the grief.

It also put Albus' relationship with him in a new light. Albus being Sirius' father made him almost Harry's grandfather. He found he liked the thought.

**TBC …**


End file.
